We're heading to Death Valley this weekend. The van is packed and waiting just prior to departure for fresh food and dog paraphenalia. We decided February was the time to go when we were in need of warm sun and Death Valley was not going to fry us.
Lucy knows something is up. On each trip to the van, she faithfully follows us suspicious that something is up and she'd better be included in it. She is...or will be.
We'll play our way down the coast and will take 395 into the north end of the valley. In last night's weather watch, we saw that the Sierra's will be seeing days of snow at the time we hit. Donner Pass anyone? We're bringing the warm comforter and another sleeping bag just in case. Lucy has her own down comforter to snuggle up in.
February 19, 2008
February 9, 2008
She Does It!
We took Lucy mountain biking. We debated whether to do it after the scare in November (see entry Improvement and Fear), but decided to take the chance committing to keeping her always in sight. Four and half miles! What a girl! And she was still pumped to go. This is the longest run she's done in a year, so we didn't want to push her despite her enthusiasm. She stayed close, so may have remembered from her last fright to keep us in sight too! At the end of the ride, she had only the merest shaking in her legs.
On our way home, we stopped at L&P's and Lucy was still chomping at the bit for more running. It must feel so good for her. I'm glad we chose to do it and I'm thrilled she did so well.
On our way home, we stopped at L&P's and Lucy was still chomping at the bit for more running. It must feel so good for her. I'm glad we chose to do it and I'm thrilled she did so well.
February 3, 2008
Tale of a Negligent Owner
I took Lucy on a walk yesterday along a river. The day was grey and chilly with only an occasional cyclist sharing the trail. I decided to try Lucy off leash to watch her gait from a distance. She's been tripping regularly and when I'm at the end of the leash, I don't seem to be able to discern what's happening. Interesting outcome. With only a few initial trips, she kept a steady, trip-less pace. It was remarkable and encouraging. However, the question remains, why does she trip while walking on a leash? Is it the speed—too slow on a leash? Is it that she knows the route and smells and is just careless? I need so explore this more, but an not sure how because of what happened.
The side of the trail descends a steep hill of blackberries leading to the river. I was initially concerned she might see a rabbit or cat or mouse and take off after it, but she maintained a respectful distance from the brambles. She never got too far ahead and periodically looked back to see where I was. When I saw a biker in the distance, I called her back to me and put her in a heel. What a good hound!
Ah, but then... On the way back, nearly to the car, it happened. I don't know what she saw, but she leapt and disappeared into the blackberries. I didn't hear any crashing and started running, concerned she was tangled.
Worse.
She was laying, twisted in the brambles. The front half was on her belly, but her (tender, expensive) back half was twisted, belly exposed. Luckily she wasn't struggling, but the last thing she needs is to damage an already vulnerable back. I climbed down through the brambles and was able to lift her chest, letting her back fall into line. I headed her up the hill, but the walking was tough: steep, deep in brambles and painfull to walk on. I got her front paw on safe ground and helped her back end up, placing her back feet on my knees, hands, feet—anything I could get under her. She was quite shaken—and shaking—when she was back on the pavement.
I felt all along her back and legs to see if I could discover anything out of line and didn't. Although my vet isn't big on aspirin, I did give her a buffered baby aspirin when we got home and another this morning. She has been doing a lot of stretching, so she did tweak something. I'll keep her on aspirin for a couple of days and take her on short, mild walks.
And I won't let her off leash again in that kind of environment. She operates from her nose and I know that. She doesn't think about circumstances and I know that. She's losing her hearing and I know that. What kind of owner am I? My poor girl.
The side of the trail descends a steep hill of blackberries leading to the river. I was initially concerned she might see a rabbit or cat or mouse and take off after it, but she maintained a respectful distance from the brambles. She never got too far ahead and periodically looked back to see where I was. When I saw a biker in the distance, I called her back to me and put her in a heel. What a good hound!
Ah, but then... On the way back, nearly to the car, it happened. I don't know what she saw, but she leapt and disappeared into the blackberries. I didn't hear any crashing and started running, concerned she was tangled.
Worse.
She was laying, twisted in the brambles. The front half was on her belly, but her (tender, expensive) back half was twisted, belly exposed. Luckily she wasn't struggling, but the last thing she needs is to damage an already vulnerable back. I climbed down through the brambles and was able to lift her chest, letting her back fall into line. I headed her up the hill, but the walking was tough: steep, deep in brambles and painfull to walk on. I got her front paw on safe ground and helped her back end up, placing her back feet on my knees, hands, feet—anything I could get under her. She was quite shaken—and shaking—when she was back on the pavement.
I felt all along her back and legs to see if I could discover anything out of line and didn't. Although my vet isn't big on aspirin, I did give her a buffered baby aspirin when we got home and another this morning. She has been doing a lot of stretching, so she did tweak something. I'll keep her on aspirin for a couple of days and take her on short, mild walks.
And I won't let her off leash again in that kind of environment. She operates from her nose and I know that. She doesn't think about circumstances and I know that. She's losing her hearing and I know that. What kind of owner am I? My poor girl.
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