Selective hearing

Yesterday we made trip to the dog park, and while this time we had no falling-in-the-river mishaps, we did have one brief scare because of Boden. Whenever we first arrive, the dogs are ecstatic. Boden runs around like a mad man, not even flinching when we say his name. He will sprint 100 yards to the first dog or human he spots, leaving us to chase after him. This effect normally wears off after the first few minutes of excitement pass, but keep us on our toes for those minutes. The dog park is huge, several acres at least. We've come across owners frantically searching for their dogs, running up and down the trails yelling for them. Because most of it is woods, it would be an easy place to lose track of your dog. So we've always been super cautious to keep the dogs in sight. And that's how our small moment of panic occurred yesterday. 

We entered the park and Boden took off running across the trails to greet a dog he saw in the distance. We called for him, but with his selective hearing, this was pointless. Thatcher, J. and I jogged ahead to catch up with him. As we got closer, Boden took off for the next dog he saw - which happened to be even further in the woods. We hurried and tried to keep our eyes on Boden, but he disappeared between the trees. This went on for a minute or two, Boden in la-la land following all the dogs he could find, and us struggling to catch a glimpse of him as he zoomed through the woods. He finally circled back to the trail in hot pursuit of another dog, when he finally noticed us calling his name. Thatcher ran ahead and barked at Boden as if to tell him to get his butt over by us, and surprisingly Boden finally listened. After that, his craziness passed and both dogs stuck fairly close to us. Another crisis averted. 

Don't own a dog unless...

The dog park we bring Thatcher and Boden to borders the Mississippi River. It's several fenced-in acres of woods, trails and beach. Being a "balmy" 30-something degree day, we decided to trek over to the dog park and let the boys frolic around with the many friends they come across there. In typical Saturday fashion, the park was full of life. This was a nice change from the last time we took them there. It was a -10 degree morning, and we were literally the only people dumb enough to be there. Anyhow, Thatcher and Boden don't get as much social interaction in the winter, aside from our trips to Petsmart or the neighborhood dogs we cross paths with on walks every now and then. So they were thrilled when we arrived and they realized where we were. 

We usually take the same route through the park. We walk through the woods on a trail that leads to a peninsula on the edge of the water, a 1-2 mile hike. Then we loop down and walk the beach the whole way back. Along the way, Thatch and Boden enthusiactically romp around with the other dogs we encounter. Boden, ever the social butterfly, makes sure to greet every living creature in the park - humans and animals alike. His best friend of choice today was another 7-month-old puppy - a goofy pit bull/lab mix. They chased and jumped on each other much of our walk, until Boden finally got distracted by new friends and ran ahead. Thatcher is much more concerned with investigating all of the scents. He trots around like a hound dog, his nose to the ground, snorting like a pig. Occasionally, he'll become sidetracked by another dog's ball. He'll say hi to the other dogs, being sure to puff up his chest to look big and tough, but then goes back to his investigative work.

So we hiked through the woods and got the peninsula, then started back on our normal route along the beach. The water close to the shore was frozen, but the ice was clearly pretty thin because of the last few warm days. Boden really hasn't had the chance to be around water a whole lot yet since he was born towards the end of summer. He clambered over to the edge of the river and took a few shaky steps onto the frozen part. Knowing the ice wasn't steady, we immediately called him to us, but it was too late. His front paws broke through and he fell head-first into the icy water. He panicked, thrashing around and whimpering for help. We were standing probably 10 yards away when this happened, and J was moving before I could even really react. He sprinted over to the edge to pull Boden to safety in a matter of seconds, soaking his own legs in the process.

It all happened in less than a minute. Being so close to shore, the water couldn't have been much more than waist-deep (on a human), but it was still scary. We thought Boden would be traumatized and shivering, and we still had a very long walk to get back to the car. But our worries were unecessary. He recovered in about half a second and went back to merrily running down the beach. Unless you felt him, you wouldn't even know he was wet, because he did not act cold in the slightest. Now, where was Thatcher during this short ordeal? Was he by our side concerned about Boden? No. After Boden was safely back on solid ground, we quickly looked around trying to make sure Thatcher was still alive and safe too. Where did we find him? About 100 yards away, cheerfully playing with another group of dogs, not even noticing what had just happened. 

So the moral of the story is this: Do not own a dog unless you are willing to jump into the icy Mississippi River to rescue him. I'd like to think our puppy has also learned his lesson and will be more cautious in the future. I fear, though, that the only lesson he learned today is to be even more brave, because mom and dad will save him no matter what situation he gets himself into. Oh well. He's snoring on the (now soaking wet) bed next to me, and I can't help but smile and think about all the crazy things we do for our pets. 

Boden sleeping off "the incident"

Loving summer

We spent Sunday evening in Thatcher heaven, aka: the dog park. The usual frolicking, splashing, swimming ensued. The nice thing about this dog park is that it's always full of life. Thatcher gets to practice greeting dogs politely, sharing sticks and coming when called. Well, he doesn't actually work on that last one. We do. Zero progress as of yet, but we're hoping for the day when he at least acknowledges that we are present. His favorite activity at the dog park is snatching balls or sticks from other dogs. I'm not proud of this. He's become rather lazy and rarely retrieves anything when we're in public. He loves the chase, but that's about it. So he's learned to wait until another dog has dutifully retrieved the stick or ball their owner threw for them. When they are almost to shore, he'll run out and take away whatever they have (if they let him). Needless to say, he gets growled at pretty frequently. 

To add to this, on the rare times he does retrieve something, he won't let it out of his mouth. He'll just carry it around proudly, looking out of the corner of his eye to see if any dog will dare try and take it back. Many other dog owners get confused, because their balls seem to vanish out of thin air. Unless we apologetically tell them that no, their ball hasn't disappeared, our dog is just hiding it in his droopy cheeks, they never know what happens. Thatcher's just a lost cause. I'm curious to see what different quirks the new puppy will have. Oh, and Thatcher says I can't forget to mention his absolute most favorite thing in the world about leaving the dog park: our ice cream stop on the way home. 

 

Water dog?

We went canoing this weekend on a river up north. Bringing Thatcher is really more of a hassle than anything, but he loves water so much that we can't bear to leave him behind. As you can imagine, a large dog and a small canoe has disastrous potential. So instead of worrying about tipping every time Thatcher decides to shift his weight in one direction or another, we always tie two canoes together to help keep more balanced. The problem with this is that Thatcher can never decide which canoe he enjoys riding in more. So he'll climb back and forth, bringing us within an inch of being dumped into the water each time.

Taking my turn swimming with Thatcher

And the water is a whole other issue. Thatcher adores swimming in the river. For about 40 seconds. Then he wants to be lifted back into the canoe. Which is nearly impossible when we're in deep water. Once we find a sand bank and get him back into the boat, literally about 6 minutes pass before he's whining to get back in the water. Must have inherited his indecisiveness from me. And this is the really sad part. Instead of having to hoist Thatcher back into the canoe every few minutes, one of us jumps in the water with him and swims with him. By swim with him, I mean carry him while swimming. He will hold perfectly still, not even try to help and paddle, while you support his weight and keep him afloat. He's a great swimmer and could probably swim miles without any trouble. We've obviously succeeded in raising him to be a good manipulator.

On our way home after a long day on the water

It was a fun trip though. Gorgeous weather, lots of sun (and sunburn). When we got to the landing to load up, Thatcher had a jolly time running around and saying hello to every living creature that came along. An enormous group of a couple dozen tubers got to the landing right after us, and Thatcher dove right back into the river to swim out and see if everyone was ok. At least he's not shy.