Home Alone

Sweet Reacher 

July 17, 2013 was the last time I allowed Reacher to roam free when I left the house. He ate a shoe. I was not happy. And I'm sure he was not happy either. Because it led to solitary confinement in his crate each time I've walked out the door since then.

But as they say, time heals all wounds--even if it doesn't restore shoes. So I'm giving give him another chance.

Why has Reacher been tapped for this summer experiment 2014? 

He still counter surfs when I leave the kitchen. And just the other day he helped himself to my half-eaten banana when my back was barely turned. He's not a likely candidate.

The truth is, I feel sorry for my Boxer boy. Ever since Panzer matured he regularly terrorizes Reacher, demonstrating that German Shepherds are bigger and badder than Boxers any day.

Reacher has taken the high road. He never fights back. He just accepts his position at the bottom of my three-dog heap.

That's why I decided to give the guy a confidence boost. Lately, he's the one dog who gets the run of the house whether I'm here or not. So far, he's made me proud. No shredded papers. No unstuffed pillows. No chewed up shoes. Just that sweet Boxer face looking up at me every time I walk back in the door.

The Good, The Bad and The Ugly

The title pretty much describes my backyard situation. I recently had a four-rail ranch style fence installed to corral my three dogs.

THE GOOD thing about the fence is that I no longer have to use the leash when any of the dogs need to tend to business. That means no more traipsing around the yard in the dark hoping to avoid tripping on a fallen branch or stumbling into one of Reacher's holes. And on those cold, rainy or snowy days I get to stay warm and dry inside while I let the dogs outside all by themselves. Just being able to open the door is a real time-saver. I do my thing in the house while Vega, Reacher and Panzer do their thing in the yard.

THE BAD part about the fence really is about my dogs' behavior while they're confined by it. While I had visions of them running happily around outside thus saving wear and tear indoors, sadly that's not the case. Panzer has appointed himself "yard boss." That is to say, he's prone to attack Reacher and even Vega if they're not behaving the way he would like--whatever way that is. That means the dogs mostly have to enjoy the yard one by one in order to avoid any fights. And that means outside time is more of a relay than a romp.

THE UGLY thing about having a fenced yard is the mud and the dirt that goes along

The number of towels it takes to clean 12 muddy paws.

with it. I like to describe my yard as park-like which is just a nice way of saying that instead of grass there is pine straw, fallen leaves and mulch covering the ground. That's in addition to several dirt paths worn down by the dogs. And you know what happens when dirt gets wet. It turns to mud. When it's raining outside, 12 clean paws wait to go out then 12 muddy paws want to come in. That's not a pretty picture.

Snow Dogs

Southern dogs, like their human counterparts, don't have much experience with snow. So they are fascinated when the flakes start to fall and cover the ground. Maybe it's that the outdoors has been transformed into a bright white tableau. Or maybe it's the extra nip in the air that revs up their energy level. Whatever the reason, Reacher, Vega and Panzer can't wait to get out the door and into the snow.

None of them seem to mind the cold, not even Reacher with his short coat. Maybe that's because his blood starts pumping as he and his German Shepherd friends chase each other around the yard like three crazy canines.

Dogs don't build snowmen, of course. Or have snowball fights. But they do enjoy a good bout of snow wrestling.

And they seem to enjoy the taste of snow on their tongues. In fact, they eat big mouthfuls of the white stuff. It might as well be vanilla ice cream. They can't seem to get enough. Frozen pine cones and icy sweet gum balls are apparently two more gourmet delights that come along with a winter wonderland.

As for me, I'm happy to stay inside where it's warm and dry and watch the show.

 

Love You Best

Reacher,
You were the first of this current trio of dogs which puts you at the top of my list. You were the puppy I chose from among your eight brothers and sisters. You caught my attention because you were spunky, energetic and playful, all characteristics which intensified as you were growing up. Although you were a challenge beginning on our first day together, we've come to a meeting of the minds. You've grown into a typical clown of a Boxer. You love going on walks, running for no reason, digging holes, watching the world go by, playing with most any other canine, meeting new people. In short, you love life! And that's what I love best about you.

 
Vega,
You are my first German Shepherd, but the seventh dog in my life. And we all know seven is a lucky number. We've shared a lot in the not-quite two years we've been together. The most memorable event is the birth of your eight puppies. That was quite the experience - for both of us. Friends and family who come to the house, then and now, always comment on your sweet, calm nature. They haven't seen your "killer" side. There's no doubt that you've got my back. You like longs walks, chasing balls, chasing Reacher and  wrestling with Panzer. But you're just as content to lie at my feet. The two of us have developed a special bond. And that's what I love best about you. 

 

Panzer,
I was there, up close and personal, when you were born. And just about every day since. Like your brothers and sisters, you were very vocal from day one. And you got even louder as the weeks went by, squealing and barking in that shrill puppy voice whenever I entered the kennel area to feed or play with all eight of you. You were demanding then. And you are demanding today. Every day you like to remind all of us that you are the alpha male in this house. You are smart, athletic, loyal and full of energy, not to mention oh-so handsome. As my fellow breeder who owns your father likes to say, you are the total package! And that's what I love best about you. 

Lovely Mud

Atlanta has recently posted it's fifth rainiest year on record which might be why I'm feeling a bit like Mrs. Wishy-Washy. In case you're not familiar with this famous children's book character created by author Joy Cowley, let me explain.

Mrs. Wishy-Washy lives on a farm with three barnyard animals. The animals are known for getting dirty and Mrs. Wishy-Washy is known for her failed attempts at keeping them clean. The animals' favorite line is, "Lovely mud."

I don't live on a farm, but I do live on a wooded lot. What it lacks in grass it makes up for in dirt. Add all the rain I mentioned earlier and you've got mud. Got the picture?

Now, substitute three dogs for Mrs. Wishy-Washy's barnyard animals. It's more or less the  the story of my recent life.

Of course, a little rain doesn't deter Reacher, Vega and Panzer from a good romp around the yard. Even if I limit their outings, I'm bound to end up with 12 muddy paws every time. Picture those paws with mud clumped under the toenails and between the pads on their feet. I'm sure you agree, there's no way one dog, much less three, can be allowed back in the house in that condition.

So, like Mrs. Wishy-Washy, I get out a tub. Then dog by dog, I begin the clean-up process. Or to quote the book, "Wishy-washy, wishy-washy." More accurately, I dip each paw into the water, swish it around and wipe it dry with one of the towels I keep in a bucket near the back door. It's a time-consuming operation, but I feel good as I release each dog into the house.

"That's better," said Mrs. Wishy-Washy.

But sooner or later, all three have to go out again.

Away goes Reacher.

Away goes Vega.

Away goes Panzer.

"Oh, lovely mud," they said.

Welcome Home

I guess it's not really fair to compare what it must be like for the winning Super Bowl team to return home to a cheering crowd of fans and what it's like for me when I return to a frantic trio of dogs. But pandemonium is one thing I'm sure both scenes have in common.

There is a definite thrill in the air when I walk through the door. My welcoming committee is boisterous, excited and all atwitter for my attention. Twelve paws dance and prance while three bodies collide like bumper cars. Two tails go whacka-thwack-thwack and one little brown nub manages to wag Reacher's whole self.

My Boxer, along with Vega and Panzer, forget any kind of manners and jostle for position. Each one wants desperately to be the first to be graced with a pat on the head or a few scratches behind the ear. There's plenty of whining too, as if that will guarantee top dog position.

I encourage them to clear a path from the door to the kitchen. Instead, all three of them bounce around me like tennis balls on steroids. It's a rowdy crowd of animal love.

This is my home team and it's a winner.

The Nose Knows

At 3 a.m. this morning I heard Vega purr. Well, at least it was a sound that reminded me of purring, just not as friendly. Was she dreaming?

Apparently not. Because next, she walked to the window and let out a definite growl. As she worked on "Superman-staring" her way through the closed blinds, the serious barking began.

I pulled up the blinds to see what we might see. Since there was a full moon, I had no problem confirming there was no cat, raccoon, possum or other critter, and fortunately no strange human being, in the yard. But Vega would not give up. I scanned further. That's when I finally spotted two deer in the neighbor's front yard. To a German Shepherd, that is definitely something worth barking about.

Okay. Deer. I got it.

But what I didn't get was how did Vega know there were deer out there? She was sleeping. She wasn't lying next to the window. And no matter what, it was impossible to see out with the blinds down and closed tight.

At a more reasonable hour, I did a little research about a dog's senses. It seems Vega's nose was likely the sense at work. The scent of the deer actually woke her up and triggered her prey drive which set off her fierce barking. Really.

Here's what I learned: The average dog's nose is tens of thousands of times as sensitive to odors as yours or mine. That's because they possess up to 300 million olfactory receptors in their noses, while we only have about six million. Plus the part of a dog's brain that is devoted to analyzing smells is 40 times greater than ours.

One dog scientist describes it like this -- a dog's sense of smell is so acute it's like having the ability to catch a whiff of one rotten apple in two million barrels.

So, 3 a.m. this morning. Lights off, windows shut, blinds drawn. Vega smells deer. If you're a dog, the nose knows.