On the Inside, Looking Out

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Galen is a funny pup. This picture of him sitting at the back door, gazing at his yard, depicts a sight that is not uncommon. Who knows whether this is about some form of canine longing, or maybe idle curiosity? If he has serious business to take care of, he finds a way to convey the urgency and does not settle for subtle signals. Sometimes it is the barking. But, often, if I am sitting, he has a different signal. He puts a paw on my leg to get my attention, looks into my eyes, and a sound comes from him that clearly says, "This is serious. Would I lie to you?" I have learned to heed that message. He isn't kidding.

Barking, on the other hand, may alternatively mean that he simply wants to go out. In those cases, when he does get outside, it is a toss up as to what he will do. He may be going out on business. But, there are times when he simply has a burning need to check out the newest smells in his territory. On another day, he just feels the need to sit on the edge of the berm in the yard and survey his kingdom. He is clear that that realm extends far beyond the fence that borders the little yard. Sometimes, he patiently watches riders go by on the trail to the south. There are days when his main duty is keeping an eye on the neighbors' horses and dogs on the property east of us. There have been times when I would swear that he is admiring the sunset.

In some instances, going out alone is not an option. He wants one of us to go outside and play with him. On those occasions, he has no use for private time in his yard. He wants to be the center of a very small universe—just Galen and at least one of his humans—sometimes it has to be the entire family. Nothing less will suffice. Other times, he watches from inside—perching by the door, or lying on the window sill, taking in the world out there.

Puppy Dogs and Flowers

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A couple of days ago, I recklessly promised photos of dogs and flowers to balance all the angst and drama around here. Still feeling a bit lazy, I thought I would see if I could get away with a cheat and combine the two.

As I have mentioned previously, Galen loves to perch on benches. If I hadn't met the dam and sire, I might wonder about our dog's heritage. Never in my life have I had a dog who so loves to perch on benches even the bedroom window seat for a good view. Heck, given an opportunity, he moves from the window seat to the window sill.

One day while hanging out by my rocking chair—no doubt lulled by the clicking of the virtual keyboard in my lap, our pup suddenly succumbed to an ill-advised impulse to leap up on the windowsill beside us. There is no window seat in the living room; but, I suppose, in that tiny doggy brain, he thought such a convenience was superfluous. Needless to say, I was yanked to attention by a crash on my left and the sight of a rather stunned looking pup scrambling to his feet.

In the bedroom, transitioning from the window seat to the sill is a piece of cake. Still, as you form your mental image of this maneuver, keep in mind that Galen is not one of those tiny, delicate Shelties. He is one of the "big boys" from the litter—just over the limit for showing. That, of course, broke our hearts. Such plans we had for the little one. Dreams dashed before he fully matured. I hope you realize that the last part was written with tongue firmly planted in cheek. We bought him with full intention of loving and reveling in being loved. We needed no more. It was a wise investment.

Family Values

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Just a few words to put into context what happens here in the near future (or more accurately what doesn't happen). My back has gone kaflooie again, The Husband has a surgery coming up all too soon, and the deadlines for the art show loom in the background. Things are apt to get a bit wonky. But everything in life is temporary. All will be straightened out soon.

Meanwhile, life goes on. Our spring finally turned to summer, but a blessedly mild one, so far. Most days, we are filled with optimism and on the ones when we aren't, we mostly just stay quiet. Galen continues to fill our lives with joy. He supplies generous doses of love, education, and entertainment.

When he isn't streaking around the backyard at breakneck speed, he loves to jump up on things and negotiate obstacles. It is possible he was born to be an agility dog. While we have no intention of taking that seriously, we do plan to purchase some bargain-priced, "practice", agility obstacles for his play sessions. In the photo above, he is perched atop a garden bench. One of his favorite sports is racing across the yard to respond to "come", then reacting to a wave of the hand and "hup" with a leap atop the nearest of what have become Galen's benches. He also thinks racing, full-out, between a person's legs is almost as much fun as eating.

There is only one small downside to his joy in these family sessions. He is quite resourceful in making it known that he has spent considerable energy assessing the circumstances and insists on sharing the information—at full volume, of course. The message: "It is getting late and there is little time left for play. And, no, one of you won't do. This is family time." Naturally, the message is cleverly designed and delivered in a way to be mistaken for "I have to go outside, now, and if you wait there will be a dreadful accident in the house. Just don't say I didn't warn you."

Would we trade the head-splitting racket for peace and quiet? Would we rather settle down to TV? Do we ever regret following the furry little tyrant outside once we drag our sorry behinds after him? We may not be brain surgeons, but we aren't hopelessly stupid.

Long, Long Days

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Lately, I have been terrible about commenting, and genuinely miss making my daily web rounds. Tuesday was another one of those days that took me completely out of the loop. Our trip to Los Angeles was a particularly long, hard day. In my opinion, any day that begins at 4:30 AM is apt to be an exhausting one.

Now, I don't like sleeping in and can rarely stay in bed past 6:30AM, even if I am not well. But, this 4:30 stuff is a little outside my range. The stress level was high enough most of the day to stifle impulses to yawn in anyone's face, but I wasn't exactly bubbling with energy. Since we didn't roll back into our garage until after 9:30 PM, I was glad to see the day end.

Meantime, Galen becomes better friends with all the folks at the day-boarding facility in town. Everyone there loves him. The adrorable manager of the kennel section (the pet food store is up front) is crazy about our pup and always has to be the one to deliver him to us. She brings him along with his personalized "report card" and a little bag of treats tied with a colorful ribbon.  Galen's report cards are always filled with glowing remarks about his good humor and excellent behaviour. Thank goodness he likes everyone there. (Little secret: Galen loves everyone. He thinks people are keen and that surely everyone lives to play with him.) We missed him desperately for two whole nights, a day, and two mornings and are relieved to have him home with us. I think he like us okay too.

You Do Not Want to Miss This Video

You are invited to the gala premiere of Galen's video. Now ready for the big screen.

For the best viewing, click the lower right button and enjoy the full screen version.

 To avoid interruptions, give it a few seconds to load. It is a large file.

Sorry we can't serve popcorn, here.

Family Walks

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You didn't honestly think I could last more than a week without posting photos of Galen, did you? That's what I figured. Just didn't want to let you down.

My regular daily walks consist of walking from the back door, around the house and tractor shed, out to the road, and back. If I include a trip around the circular drive out front, the entire route results in a quarter-mile walk. That's just about my speed these days. I usually do that at least one a day and combine that with walks around the perimeter of Galen's domain out back.

Some days, The Husband walks with me to keep me company and encourage me. And, on many of those occasions, he brings Galen so the pup can enjoy some new smells. That particular day, I just couldn't resist pointing my camera at our beastie, since he was being so cooperative.

Walking is good stuff under most any circumstances, but walking in your very own little bubble of love and warmed by the sun is especially fine. The photos of Galen are nice mementos of one of those special afternoons.

Window Seats and Bounce Flash

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The window seat in the title is obvious. The critter is Galen, the Shetland Sheepdog—obvious if you have read my blog for a while. The bounce flash? That's another story, but a very short one.

Shortest story first. When I first began getting the hang of using off-camera flash, I struggled, but I have learned some basics. I soon learned that it allowed me to get some photos that would otherwise be impossible, and I learned to take the bad with the good. When I took these photos just after Christmas last year, there wasn't nearly enough light in our bedroom to make a photograph and bouncing the flash off the wall allowed me to capture the moment. I imagined the pictures being something that would make us smile and remember the day Galen discovered the window seat. It would be a charming occasion to recall.

Hah! Turns out the window seat was not a passing fancy with young master Galen. He is quite taken with it, thank you. It makes a fine perch from which one can survey one's back yard. This is a most  important task, don't you know. There are birds out there that bear watching. Moreover, you can never tell when one of those smelly underground creatures will pop up out of one of those holes out there, or some cat will have the gall to ignore the fence. It pays to keep an eye on one's kingdom.

Alas, watching over an entire yard, in addition to one's humans (not to mention toys) is a considerable responsibility for a puppy. Having a lookout tower of sorts offers a welcome advantage to a dog of rather small stature. Windows are placed unecessarily far from the floor and give a poor dog almost no help at all.  A nice wood window seat is also cooler than the carpet, when one's belly wants a bit of relief from the heat. So, you can see that, all in all, window seats are lovely things.

Last night our watchdog decided that he needed Pony to assist him with his responsibilities. He jumped up on the window seat, holding Pony in his mouth, and settled down to the task of surveying his realm by the light of a full moon. By that time, The Husband and I were already snug in bed. I wasn't about to climb out from under the covers and try to make a picture. Perhaps the ones here will get things started and your imagination can fill in the details.

Why Eat When You Can Run?

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If you ever consider getting a Shetland Sheepdog and do any research, some of the things you learn may give you pause. One is the issue of grooming. The Sheltie coat is thick with quite an undercoat. The other drawback is that Shelties (as they are often called) are extremely high energy dogs. You can either have a well-exercised dog and enjoy the relationship, or a dog who doesn't get exercised and drives you absolutely bonkers.

Galen is a fairly typical Shetland Sheepdog. Very thick coat and, unfortunately, we are not responsible groomers. Shame on us. Fortunately, the grooming hassle with Shelties is offset, in my opinion, by the unusual habit they have of bathing themselves. As a result, they stay surprisingly clean. In the exercise department, however, there are no mitigating factors. Too many hours without some sort of play and this pup is a madman. Furthermore, like most dogs of his breed, he has a bark that will make your ears bleed. Believe me, when he gets nutty, there is no peace. With some exercise, he is extremely well-behaved. Without his workouts, there is misery afoot.

Galen has a good appetite; but, with a choice between eating and running, it's no contest.  He is of the opinion that while food can always wait, one should never pass up an opportunity to get outside and run. We make it a point to see that our pup get gets some exercise every day. Although the Husband has carried the brunt of that workload for weeks, I am beginning to be able to pick up a bit of the slack. It is a joy to watch our energetic pup flying around his little domain.

You can see some more photos of Galen enjoying life, Sheltie style, at these links 6510 and 6528. The links will take you to two more action shots.

SanDisk and Shelties

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A belated but sincere "Thank you" to all who offered me information and the encouragement to switch to the SanDisk Extreme cards. I appreciate the responses to that long ago post. I finally got around to buying two of the Extreme cards and I am a happy shopper. Sure enough, the faster cards are not going to eliminate my yen for that 1D MarkII, but the superior performance of the Extreme cards somewhat eases the itch.

Truthfully, I couldn't manage a 1D now if one appeared on the dining room table. I am nowhere close to getting my reflexes up to speed, much less my arm and hand strength. But, I am relishing the improvement in those departments. I do enjoy the challenge of action photography.

When photographing a madly running Galen (or Lightning, as we call him occasionally), I genuinely appreciate any improvement in emptying that buffer. The upgrade in speed produced a slight twinge of pain in the wallet; nevertheless, I can't imagine now returning to my trusty old Ultra II's for action photography. Heck, who knows? I may end up with Extreme 1V's before you know it. Ouch, I think I felt that twinge again.

Please Don't Take My Pony Away

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Galen loves his toys and has many favorites. However, we weren't prepared for the attachment he formed to this one. Clearly, this photo of our puppy dozing in the kitchen wouldn't persuade you to see the stuffed creature, wrapped in the little puppy legs and held carefully in the mouth, as a pony. But, I assure you there were more clues in Pony's salad days. 

In case this image doesn't make clear the devotion Galen feels for Pony, let me tell you about the night Pony got a bath. Our first mistake was scheduling the bath late into the evening. Big mistake. The bath was a hand washing procedure and we didn't dare toss the stuffed animal in the dryer. No backup on this toy. Another oops. In the interest of caution, we elected to leave Galen's buddy to air dry. One can't be too careful.

Within a short time of Pony's disappearance, Galen began to fret and soon launched into an urgent search of the premises for his best bud. The agitated pursuit was accompanied by much low whimpering and an air of clear distress. In the beginning, we were somewhat glib. Having lived with dogs all my life, I had never dealt with a canine deeply attached to a toy, stuffed or otherwise. We both thought that the pup would soon be distracted and forget about Pony. Third and largest boo-boo of all.

Hours later, we were desperately trying to distract the now fully distraught dog and convince him that all was right in his world. We tried to engage him in play. We waved other favorite toys under his nose. The magic hat? Nah. Nothing. Sock Monkey? Pooh. Who cares. Even Foxy, couldn't hold his interest. Food? Phew! All Galen wanted was Pony. Freshly washed, but soaking wet Pony.

After a while, we assumed our pup would wear himself out and fall asleep. By now it was bedtime. No. We were sleepless in Bear Valley. All of us. For hours, Galen cried and paced outside the door of the laundry room into which his beloved Pony had disappeared.

I won't go into all the lame efforts we made to speed the drying of the stuffed animal and distract Galen, before we collapsed into bed exhausted and hoping for the best. When the long night finally passed, we awakened, exhausted, and dashed for the laundry room to end everyone's suffering. Suffice it to say that Pony hasn't had a bath since. 

Cleaning Up Memory Cards

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We were quiet here, yesterday. No party hangovers. No hangovers because it had been quiet at our place New Year's Eve, as well. We wished one another "Happy New Year" somewhere around Buenos Aires time, wrapped things up, and the day ended as early as usual for us. Ahh, party animals we are not. The tail end of my cold, flu, whatever, along with The Husband having a version of what is probably the same bug left us both a bit washed out at the end of 2010.

Not only was I quiet yesterday, I was downright lazy. I can't point to a single thing that I accomplished. If I were always that lazy, I wouldn't have any photos, or blog, or much of anything else for that matter. I suppose my batteries needed recharging after a brief burst of energy over a period of a few days earlier in the week. It was a crash-after-the-high episode.

On one of my more productive days, I had found some photos of Galen that I never downloaded from a memory card. This one was taken in late May soon after he became part of our lives. Of course, I love him looking all grown up now. Still, I can't help missing that round little puppy for whom everything was brand new.

While cleaning out those files, I faced the fact that I will make an exception for Galen and keep pictures that are nothing more than family snapshots. I almost never hold on to pictures that are mushy soft or hopelessly framed. I already have too many external hard drives. When it comes to photos of Galen, however, the rules change. After all, he's family, and he will never be that puppy again.

More of Life with a Puppy

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Galen is over nine months old now and looks all grown up. But, make no mistake, he remains very much the puppy. Thanks to his peculiar quirks and boundless energy, he fills our house with life and joy.

Some days we feel guilty about his having been stuck with what The Husband refers to as "two old fogeys". We can't help wondering if he would be happier with a couple of energetic youngsters to chase. My surgery appeared to be hard on him—lots of days at doggy day-care along with strange new rules of interaction when we were with him—left him a bit confused. But, he seems to have bounced back none the worse for the ordeal. His resilience and love of life's simple things is inspiring.

Caution: Training in Progress

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The offspring of Brangay's Quick Draw finally has a name. Well, this name has stuck for a few day, but I confess that every other day one of us comes up with at least one, “We should have named him ….” The answer came while scanning a list of Gaelic names—his ancestors are Scottish, after all. I came upon Galen and it had a nice sound to it. When I tried it on the husband, he didn’t sniff and wrinkle his nose—yes, that happened with a couple of my submissions. Instead, he cocked his head to one side, narrowed his eyes, rolled the name around on his tongue a couple of times, then finally pronounced it a fine name, indeed. When I tried it on the puppy, I got a somewhat similar response. Well, the cocked head, at least. So, for the moment, Galen it is.

Our training is proceeding quite satisfactorily. Without fail, I throw on jeans and shoes to get puppy out to the back yard for a brief walk between 6 and 7 AM, prepare his breakfast, gulp down some water while a cup of coffee heats in the microwave, and check to be certain that there are treats for the big walk that will follow puppy’s breakfast. After Galen’s private business has been attended to, the longer walk includes hitting all the important checkpoints along the edge of the yard where we check to be certain no marauding invaders approach the castle. If I should become distracted at any of the checkpoints, Galen sits, patiently reminding me that castle-guarding Shelties don’t come cheap. While he indulges me, I dig in the treasury of goodies for a treat, and after the brave knight has been lavished with praise and the treat has been consumed, we happily make our way to the next checkpoint. I am happy to report that my concentration is improving, and I am getting better at instantly catching the desired behavior. After all, that’s what I am being trained to do.

When all the work and recreational period that follows has been completed, we return and the help is allowed to eat. (The help would be me, of course.) After breakfast, I prepare more puppy treats including cooking more chicken if necessary, then slice yummy chicken into pea-sized bits and tempting cheese into similar sized bits. By the time I finish all my kitchen chores and get properly dressed, it is usually time for another walk.

Fortunately, Galen is also being trained. He got the “sit” command down in nothing flat. “Piece of cake” he seemed to beam. Of course, I admit that occasionally, when stumped, he sits because he’s pretty darned sure that putting his fanny on the ground makes us happy; but, for the most part, he is getting his cues straight. “Down” as in put the belly on the ground, was more challenging. For both of us. He didn’t get it at first and getting lower to the ground to cue him did my back no good at all. Now, I don’t have to get as close to the ground and I certainly look forward to reaching the stage where I can give the signal from a full standing position. “Watch me” is coming along nicely. Yes, I freely admit that, at this stage, the pup has his eye on the treat next to my eye, but we are getting there.

The biggest advance in my education is successfully coping when Galen gets totally nuts and believe me this dog adds new dimensions to the adjectives “excited” and “stubborn”. I have learned that turning my back and becoming totally bored with the ball of furry resistance on the other end of the leash produces calm. In the beginning he would occasionally plant that cute little fanny on the grass giving me the “Make me follow" look or throw himself against the end of the leash in a dramatic tantrum. I learned to stop, show him my back, and take time to admire the clouds, trees in the distance, or the tall grass waving in the breeze. Soon, a nose would touch the back of my leg and a somewhat contrite Galen, would look up as though to suggest politely that if I might be interested in a walk, he would be most happy to follow. There is little if any resistance now and those result in the briefest of pauses. On those occasions, the moment the furry creature has come around, off we go for more of our duties and just plain fun.

Old Lessons Re-learned from a Puppy

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Some old lessons are repeated throughout our lives. I marvel that I continue learning the old ones over and over and again. Almost never new lessons—merely new variations on the same old truths. I suppose it makes sense that after one reaches a certain age this is the case. You have learned the essential rules by which life works. You just keep hoping to get a different result and maybe skirt the rules every so often.

One rule I see popping up repeatedly in my life is often stated in this homely way: “There is no such thing as a free lunch.” Great wisdom is often wrapped in such simple old aphorisms, isn’t it? Everything that we desire has a price and life is about making our way through thousands of choices each day. A great percentage of those choices come down to what price we are willing to pay for the comfort, joy, or whatever that we desire.

No question those choices and trade-offs apply to individuals, groups, even nations. On a daily basis, we decide, as individuals or groups, what we want and the price we are willing to pay. We get one thing and give up another. Sometimes it seems like a lose-lose proposition, but we make the choices anyway and blindly hope it will all work out for the best. Worst of all, we frequently ignore the old lesson and embrace a choice without considering the consequences. We simply grab what we want, then recoil in astonishment when the bill comes due. Sometimes we even rail and rant that the price isn’t fair. Most often the price is a shock simply because we made our choice without investigating the cost. We expected “a free lunch”.

Adding a puppy to our house is a small and, in the big picture, inconsequential example of this old truism. We wanted, no, “craved” the love, companionship, joy, and just plain fun of having a dog again. We especially wanted to get a puppy, since The Husband and I have never raised a puppy together. The two dogs that we acquired after we joined our lives were rescues. They couldn’t have been better companions and lived long healthy lives making immeasurable contributions to our home. When the time came to get another dog, we assessed the cost of taking on a puppy and made our choice. A puppy it would be.

With a choice such as this one, there is no delayed first payment. No, “Pay the first installment next year, interest free for six months.” No, the bills begin arriving the day the puppy arrives and these aren’t bills that you can stall on. Payment is simply extracted. No questions asked, no excuses accepted, no exceptions made.

My aching back is one of the prices I am paying and certainly the one that has the most impact. All the bending that is involved in having a 10 week old puppy, is putting a major kink in my bad-to-begin-with back. Today, I am “limping” along on Tylenol and Stop Pain—my pain killers of choice.

On the other hand, love is a remarkable balm that soothes all wounds. Not for a moment would I trade the joy of this fur-ball of mystery and energy for less back pain. I just accomplish even less than usual these days. Certainly, “There is no free lunch” in this case, but I am mighty glad we made the choice. Our lives are richer, and I suspect that there are many familiar life-lessons we will re-learn thanks to a certain Shetland Sheepdog who now owns our hearts.

Ain't Love Grand?

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Naturally, I love all the fun suggestions for a name. Keep them coming, please. Day 3 and we continue to discuss and negotiate. He is still Puppy.

Whew. I am relieved to get pre-approval for more self-indulgent pictures of our canine version of the Energizer Bunny. The one above is no more than a poorly done snapshot. But, I ask you, "Would you rather play with this adorable creature, or be stuck behind a camera, or perhaps be staring at a computer monitor?" My answer is that I am typing with one finger because the creature is using my right arm as a pillow and taking a brief nap in my lap. Sigh. Ain't love grand?

McGraw’s Kid

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It’s always something with me, isn’t it?

This time, the distraction is eight weeks old and weighs maybe four pounds. So far, his only name is Puppy, although he is occasionally referred to as “Mcgraw’s Kid”. His sire, Brangay Quick Draw, is known to most as McGraw. Does this mean Puppy needs to have a name such as Wild Bill Hickock, or Wyatt Earp. I hope not.

One thing is certain. Not only is Puppy the center of attention, but hunting him down and preparing for his arrival totally consumed every waking moment for more than a week. I could say now that he is here, life will be more normal. But, that wouldn’t be smart, now would it? It is a fact that life will be different.

By the way, brace yourself for occasional puppy pictures. If you are one of those who can’t handle syrupy sweet puppy photos now and again, step away from the blog.