A Home for Singer

The Fear Factor

2012-03-04T14:24:00.001-08:00

We had some snow here in Wisconsin this weekend-- Singer is enjoying her backyard.

Singer recently groomed, complete with her multicolored bow...

I'll get to today's topic in a sec, but I just have to tell you this: Singer will wait at the back door forever to be let in. Just like the Little Match Girl looking in on a warm home, she sits, looking at the crack at the bottom of the door, waiting. We have a window to the left of the door and I can just barely see her, sitting there patiently waiting. She never barks or whines to come in. She must feel like an outsider, just like the Little Match Girl…snowflakes falling softly around her. Awww…I love to hold this lonely image of her in my mind and nurture it with all sorts of imaginary and improbable thoughts. But I digress.

Today’s post is really about anxiety, both human and canine. I read recently that there’s an app for people with all kinds of phobias that exposes them to their anxiety-provoking stimulus, whether it's airplanes, spiders, or honeycombs (yes, some people are afraid of geometrical designs, I understand). Even stuffed animals cause some to shriek in terror. But we humans, yes, we have the big brains and have ways of coping. Here it comes…thick as honey.

Dogs, on the other hand, cope with their anxieties in a much more enlightened way. They bark. Or growl. Or even attack the source of their anxieties. Singer is dealing with her anxieties quite rationally. The other day she stiffened as she saw another dog approaching, alerting me from my iPod walking reverie. I stopped and quickly decided a different route. We turned around and walked parallel to the vicious, but old, dog, who was now barking and growling at Singer from behind a fence. Good job of alerting me, Singer! We averted a near catastrophe there. Now, can you imagine designing an app for that? I can’t.

My friend Marianne from Virginia, she recently wrote on this blog in a comment that her Irish setter of years back used to bark at snowmen. I told her that Saylor used to do the same thing. Anxiety about a white figure, usually tall and bulky looking. Kind of stiff and silent. Pretty scary, if you ask me. And I would think that barking is a way to decide whether to attack or not. Saylor would bark until I would take her directly to the snowman, then she would sniff at the snow and continue on her way. “Oh well. I thought it was a threat.”

I hope I don’t come across as insensitive to people who have real phobias, but honestly, why can’t people just bark at their fears? Doesn’t that make more sense than to throw a virtual technology blanket over it? Isn’t that just another way of not dealing with it? Dogs know how to deal with fear, people don’t. That’s why people buy guns sometimes.

Two Months Out and Look Where We Are

2012-02-29T10:55:00.000-08:00

It’s been about two months since Singer came to us, and I think she’s come a long way. We all have. The big thing is that I’m starting to not remember specific little things about Saylor, which depresses me. I will look at Singer on the couch and remember how Saylor used to snooze there, curled up like a hibernating bear cub, and peek open her eyes to acknowledge me if I whispered to her. But the specifics of her are getting hazy. I don’t exactly recall how she used to sound, for example. Her bark used to be low and clear until she got pneumonia, then she sounded hoarse. But Singer’s bark is definitely different than Saylor’s, it is louder and sharper sounding, sometimes ending with a low growl, depending on the circumstances. It has overlaid my memory of Saylor’s bark.

Saylor was a very vocal dog. She would whine for treats and stamp her foot impatiently if we didn’t give them to her right away. Very Scarlett O’Hara. She was irresistible. But this antic is fading. Singer has her own distinct style. She doesn’t quite “beg” (it would seem rude to her.) But she looks with her huge waif eyes at the food, and sniffs so loudly you can hear her across the room. She makes her wishes known. And when you tell her “No!” she gives a baleful look, as if to say she’s sorry, but then she immediately turns her attention back to that wonderful pork chop just sitting there on the plate. Usually I end up pushing her backwards and telling her to “sit!” or “Go lay down!” She gives me a vapid look, as if to say, “I don’t understand what that means…sorry!” Pretty soon, I will have to get tougher on her, she’s quite the actress. I know I will have to tell her, “Hey, quit your Little Orphan Annie act, girlie, the jig is up! You’re a part of the family now, and rules apply to everyone!” Then she’ll quickly give a glance to Dakota, who will sneer at her. She’s too smart for her own good.

Dakota has always had his own set of rules. He could always jump on the table, for example (are you all horrified? I do wipe it down before meals and afterwards…) And his dishes are up high, away from Saylor initially, and now Singer. Funny, that was the thing I worried about most with Singer, that she would be snarfing down the cat food, standing on her hind legs and carefully moving the dish to her mouth like Saylor always did. But she has kept her distance from Dakota’s food. Until last night, that is.

She finally felt brave enough, or relaxed enough, or secure enough, or all three, to swipe down Dakota’s food dishes, and gobble them up while we were at our yoga class. She was quite clumsy about it--she spilled Dakota’s water all over the floor and upended the dishes. Saylor always was careful not to spill and she’d thoughtfully leave morsels in the dish for Dakota. But Singer moved in like a tornado, all memories of her loving licks apparently wiped clean. And she cleaned his dish so not a speck of food was left. I scolded her when we came back, but she looked like the kid who says, “Yeah, right, next time I’ll just not get caught!”

I decided to put up a flimsy cardboard barrier. Jeff took one look at it and said, “You really don’t expect that to keep her away, do you?” Actually, it’s just a warning to her. I know she’s smart enough to know she’s not supposed to do that, and I want to see if she goes ahead anyway. Then it’s war time, baby! I will implement a sturdier, Irish setter proof system to keep Dakota’s food safe. And allow Singer to dream up something else that she wants…

I think this is called “battle of the wills” and every parent ends up fighting this, (or not). Let’s bring it on.

Big Red

2012-02-24T20:41:00.002-08:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N9mdaDcySG4

Check out Big Red on YouTube. For those of you who never have seen it, and for those of you who have.

What's Next?

2012-02-21T10:01:00.000-08:00

Oh, I love to think about what is happening next. With Singer, she’s completed her intermediate family dog training class, and now the thought is looming in my mind: What do we do with her now?

I have a yoga dog calendar in my office, and the February picture shows a pitbull doing the Cat-Cow pose, holding his left front paw forward and his back right paw in the opposite direction. Of course, these shots were probably Photo-shopped, but they are amusing. Yoga for dogs?

I asked the teacher after our last class on Saturday, who told me she isn’t quite ready for a class that I thought sounded intriguing: Dog Park Class. She is still skittish around some other dogs—she gave a warning growl to a goofy, large Great Dane puppy, who at eighteen months is still a giant, and apparently threatening to Singer. I made her “apologize” to Finch, who is a very happy go lucky, lovable guy, by taking her over to him, and letting her sniff his huge jaws while I tightly held her leash. Hopefully, she realized, “Oops! He’s just a puppy yet, no danger here!” Finch’s owner was very understanding.

So we may consider taking an assessment class to see how Singer does around big dogs, since she had a scary incident at eighteen months where she was attacked by another dog. Or, we may just continue for a bit, and see what develops…

Singer is now allowed to roam the house with Dakota when we’re at work. My son comes home mid-afternoon and lets her out. But she bounds to the door when we come home, ready for a walk. She actually seems excited about her walks now.

Other developments: she is braver coming towards the table now, and sniffs loudly when food is present. I keep pushing her away, although I don’t want to yell at her. Yet. And she sometimes climbs on the table to look out the window as we leave. Saylor used to do that, too. Irish setters love their people. And we love them!

The Enchantment of My Dog

2012-02-14T13:06:00.000-08:00

Singer with that mesmerized look...

Singer continues to be fascinated with our backyard. I amend that: she is absolutely mesmerized by the wildlife and incredible action out there. She will spend several minutes watching shadows on the snow in bright sunlight, her tail in a dizzying whirl. I don’t know what it is—the shadows flitting across the landscape from birds flying overhead, or her mind’s eye imagining a forest full of animals? Does she see little critters scurrying away in golf ball sized holes in the snow? Does she imagine little dark mice running for their lives across the crusty snow ridges made by her galloping paws? Or maybe she’s just mesmerized by the sights and sounds of the outdoors. In any case, she loves to go outside and spend several minutes getting mesmerized…It’s like an addiction for her. I joke that her eyes become whirling orbs in her head, like those old cartoons of hypnotized victims, their hands (paws) out in front of them, ready to do the enchanter’s bidding. She is definitely enchanted. The backyard must have a magical wizard out there who is controlling my dog. Maybe he lives in the old apple tree, eating last fall’s rotten apples that have fallen on the ground. The wizard has captured her attention and whisked her away from her warm home, her couch, her kitty friend, Dakota, and of course, me. The pull of this sorcerer is great—she gets up while snuggled on the couch beside me as I read at night, the irresistible magnet making her pace around the house until we let her out, so she can find this mystical wizard who is invisible yet as powerful as a tornado that sweeps her off into the night.

Last Saturday, our next to last class, we upped the ante with getting our dogs to sit while behind fences, and with our backs turned. Singer, good sport, watched my hand movements, and tried hard to figure out what I wanted from her. It took several tries to learn how to sit with a fence in front of her. We still are working on sit while I stand at an angle to her. Eventually, she will know that sit means sit anywhere I happen to be, and not just while standing directly in front of her. Back home, Jeff and I played the name game with her—he upstairs, me downstairs, calling her back and forth, back and forth. She loved the game, and the treats. I remember Saylor loved it, too.

A Lassie Moment

2012-02-07T11:31:00.000-08:00

This morning, Singer watched from the couch as I debated with Jeff whether or not to leave her in the house instead of the crate before we left for work. It’s time that we allowed her free roam of the house while we’re gone, I think. I argued that we can make sure all food is put away and slippers are behind closed doors. She’s a good dog, she should be granted access to her couch, water bowl, and windows so she can view her backyard. She watched us nervously, and then I gave in. “Come on, Singer,” I called her. She obediently went to the basement and into her crate without coaching.

It’s what I call a “Lassie moment” – when a dog seems to have almost human abilities.

I couldn’t help wondering if she somehow caught the drift of our conversation and decided to end the debate herself by choosing the crate. I’ll never know, but it is tempting to consider her powers of discernment and draw the line between that thought and her willing entry into the crate. Did she “decide” that she would curb the tension between us and just go willingly? How could an animal reason in this sophisticated way? [“My dog is smarter than your honor student” bumper stickers come to mind…] Or was it merely free floating anxiety that helped her to choose the crate, her awareness of its source completely detached from her reality? It’s probably the latter. She might have picked up on a bit of tension between Jeff and I this morning as we debated the issue, then decided to head for the crate as a place of safety. It’s not like we were fighting mad, so the option of her reasoning powers coming into play is not entirely implausible. But if she really understood her options, would she choose the crate over her beloved couch and windows?

I think she knows the word “crate” and she surely heard the word as we discussed the issue. I asked Nate before he left for work what he thought, and he also opted for the crate. I was outnumbered. It’s tempting to think Singer figured out the issue and decided to take the matter into her own paws. Is this just another example of inappropriate anthropomorphizing or legitimate speculation on how much do animals really understand our world?

Useful Stereotypes

2012-02-06T09:59:00.000-08:00

I know why we use stereotypes—it helps us to better understand people who seem rather “foreign” to us. Anything familiar that we can attach to an unknown person helps us to move closer to them and perhaps even try harder to further understand them as individuals. Or not.

Stereotypes also inspire us to place people on the shelves, never to be considered again because we already “know” them. It's a way of skimming a person’s essence, an overly assured summing up of faults and virtues that never considers the evidence. Very unscientific, unless you think of stereotypes as a sort of hypothesis, which I do.

Stereotypes used in this manner, where the truth lay scattered in the future while using evidence as it comes in to shape and build that truth, can actually be somewhat helpful. Sitting on the fence about someone while letting your hypothesis take its course, or turn in another direction, will move you closer to your goal of understanding. Even with dogs. Or cats. In fact, didn’t we all start our pet relationships with a stereotype of a puppy or kitten? How many stereotypes have we all heard about dogs and cats? How many have been broken?

If I were to pick a stereotype to describe Singer, I would say she is like Cinderella, the lonely stepsister whose less attractive/dumber stepsisters treated her badly. But I actually know this to be untrue. She was well taken care of by her previous owners, although another female dog attacked her when she was eighteen months old (a jealous stepsister?). Still, I’ve been keeping this theory on ice for a reason.

The reason is that I don’t want to allow a stereotyped image of Singer to control how I handle her. I’m afraid I spoiled Saylor because of her health issues, which overly influenced how I perceived her and she eventually grew fat. I don’t want Singer to feel she is more entitled to love, attention, affection, etc. because I have this notion of her being deprived of it in the past. And I do think dogs (and yes, even Dakota!) are smart enough to figure out how to keep the love forthcoming like a spigot turned on full blast. Just like kids, they figure out ways to get the best response from us, positioning themselves to lap up all the attention, food, and love that they can get. Picture Singer and Dakota on their backs, their mouths wide open underneath the spigot. There is no moral thermometer that says “I’ve had my share—it’s time to give Mom a break and let her attend to her own needs for once! Or maybe she can give some attention to her husband, now…” Actually, it’s my responsibility to know when to say “enough!”

Because I am neurotic, I tend to worry about my pets’ self esteem probably a little too much. I worry about how Singer is adjusting to our home, whether she thinks often of her old home, and whether, when she is looking through her fence at some distant animal in the next yard, she is actually contemplating running away from home. My thoughts quickly jump to how I can make sure she is happy, busy, and feeling well loved. Then I notice the time, and have to relegate the task for later. But her soft red head will appear in my thoughts throughout the day, and I will smile as I plan for our next walk. And the stereotype of a good owner actually makes me feel good. I am trying hard not to let stereotypes rule my thoughts so much, so I will just allow myself to look forward to a simple walk with my dog. That’s all I can do, and somehow I know this is enough.

Competition Among the Animals

2012-02-04T14:43:00.000-08:00

Today in our dog training class, we learned about how to get a dog jealous in order for her to behave. Problem is, we don’t have another dog to make her jealous, so I guess we’ll just have to use Dakota! The teacher showed us how it works: First, ask your dog to do something challenging, like come when she is distracted. Another teacher with lots of goodies in her hand let a standard white poodle, Rosie, get a big sniff, and then she also used a squeaky toy to really get her attention. Rose did not come when her owner called. So her owner came up to Rosie, showed her the treats she had in her hand, and while Rosie watched, she announced that she was giving Topper and Winston the treats because Rosie did not come. “Too bad!” she shouted behind her shoulder and we all laughed as Rosie looked on, clearly disappointed. It was quite a show.

When it was Singer's turn, she obeyed me immediately. She tends to be afraid of strangers, and I think she didn't want to pay any attention to the teacher, despite the delectable goodies and toy in her hand. But if she were a squirrel, there'd be a different outcome, I'm sure!

I’ve noticed that there is a distinct competition going on between Singer and Dakota for my affections. It seems stronger than the one between Saylor and Dakota ever was. I will be petting Dakota and kissing him and Singer will rush over to get some, too. Dakota doesn’t like it when I give Singer too much attention, he can get nasty and is not afraid to show it. I’m not sure how I might use Dakota to get Singer jealous, but I do give Dakota treats that Singer doesn’t get. She doesn’t seem to mind.

We took Singer in the backyard after class and worked on her recall. She’s been so mesmerized with the animals in the backyard lately, she will spend extra minutes not coming and she hardly comes at all for Jeff. Today, she was coming pretty consistently for him with treats at short distances. I’m hoping he has time this week to work with her on recall. I too want to reinforce it.

Singer’s head smells like a baby’s head when she’s been on her walk, all warm and soft. I love kissing her head. The scent is like a comforting memory that stays with me throughout the day.

Today was another beautiful day, sunny with just patches of snow left. Singer enjoyed two walks, one from me and one from Jeff. We loved the fresh air. My camera’s batteries gave out as I tried to get some shots of Singer on her walk with Jeff. I hope to get some today and upload more pictures soon.

Toys in the Basement

2012-01-31T09:03:00.000-08:00

If someone came into our modest home, he or she would notice right away the old raggedy dog toys and bones scattered throughout the house. They lie along the walls—an old purple plush toy, its stuffing long gone (Saylor), a newer stuffed polar bear, a rawhide bone. Walking through the dining room, you would see an old hedgehog underneath a picture window, half stuffed, and a pink pig ridiculously limp from lack of stuffing. In the kitchen, underneath the table, is a multi-colored plush ball that squeaks, still in pretty good shape. Rope toys lie half-way hidden underneath chairs. Singer has found them all in a basket in our basement, where we kept Saylor’s toys. In later years, she would focus briefly on one toy. Most of her toys lay in the pink basket in the basement, forgotten.

Singer has found her aunt’s former possessions and dragged them all over the house. I’m reminded of a child who finds her mother’s old clothes in an attic to play with, perhaps leaving them scattered throughout the house for weeks at a time. Singer has been enjoying these old treasures, romping with them throughout the house and then just leaving them for reminders. I wonder what she discerns from their scent, if she is taking away from them a bit of Saylor? Does she get images of Saylor, who is her aunt on her father’s side? Does she wonder about her? I like to think she does.

It’s interesting to see these toys, played with by Saylor when she was one and two years old, then slowly abandoned in the basement as she aged. Near the end of her life, she did still love a pink dinosaur that had different sounds than the typical squeaker. We brought it to her while she was at the hospital and snuggled it under her paw. It is wrapped up still, I cannot bear to look at it yet. One of Saylor’s favorite toys of all time was a grey plush elephant, with long, distorted legs. Each foot had a different sound in it, and she loved chewing on each of the feet to hear their distinct sounds, like playing a musical instrument. Eventually the elephant became destuffed, its head torn apart like most of her toys, but she still loved it for the musical feet. I couldn’t bear to throw it away, although Singer has not yet brought it out. She probably realizes it’s not worth much now, except for my memories of Saylor.

These toys are quickly brushed aside when I vacuum, only to be brought out again by Singer. But I don’t mind. It’s comforting to see these icons of playfulness, joy and healthy vigor in our house once again. They are symbols of puppyhood and I’m also reminded of Nathaniel’s babyhood, when his toys were scattered throughout the house, and he would busy himself looking at each one, investigating and thinking about his world through his toys.

I imagine Singer is seeking answers from her new world as she sniffs, then grabs each toy, prancing with it throughout the house. I kiss her on her warm head, and think about her as a young puppy, faint memories still lingering in her scent.

The Eyes Touch My Soul

2012-01-28T14:34:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I look at my two animals and marvel at their beauty. Dakota looks at me with ice blue eyes, so clear they look like rare gems. There is a minute fleck of brown in the right eye that pulls your vision away from the translucent quality for a moment, as if it is a spot on a sheet of ice. The sky blueness of his eyes can make you smile or catch you in the throat with their acuity. They make me think he is always clear and razor concise in his thoughts. Indulge me with this illusion.

Singer’s liquid chocolate eyes, dark brown orbs that exude an ancient kindness bestowed by the animal kingdom fall on me. She holds her head at a perfect angle, so that her eyes match mine, though I am sitting higher than she. She is encapsulated in stillness, giving her an especially graceful look that is compounded by those eyes that I feel like I can fall into, and discover wonderful things about myself within their depths. You think I’m crazy? Just ask anyone who is in love with their pets. They’ll tell you it all begins with the eyes. What we see in those eyes, what we project, will transform our hearts and change us forever. And something magical happens, because they always show us we are right to feel this way.

But then Singer grabs a slipper, she doesn’t care whose it is, and romps with it around the house, her front legs springing forward like a young pony. She gives the slipper a shake, as if it’s a resistant muskrat she’s caught down river, and the playful gleam in her eye transmits across the room. I yell at her to drop it, but she doesn’t. She runs farther into the house, daring me to chase her. I oblige in her game and more sternly demand that she drop it, and she obeys. Her eyes are now dancing with a playful light and she looks quickly from my hand, which holds the slipper to my face, wondering what I will do next. I laugh at her and cannot help to pet her head. Satisfied, she trots away and finds one of her own toys to play with. Dakota is sitting like a sphinx in the corner of the room, watching. He observes without comment or preamble, and notices that I haven’t punished this unruly girl. He stretches for a second, then struts, and I mean struts like Saddam Hussein did in his palace, over to Singer and gives her a good swipe across her muzzle. And a snarly meow for good measure. I am astounded. This is the first time Dakota has exhibited any overt sign of aggression toward Singer, and it is so in line with what has just happened, it’s almost uncanny. I wonder, do animals really know more than we think they do?

I wanted to take a close up shot of both Dakota’s and Singer’s eyes for this post, but at the moment, Dakota is hiding under the couch. Maybe next time.

Dogs and Peak Performance

2012-01-23T11:09:00.000-08:00

Dogs are like artists, by which I mean creative people in general. They approach their world with high levels of passion that continually renews itself. I see artists this way. BTW, artists can be scientists or engineers, or just about any profession—it is the way in which you perceive your profession that defines an artist. An artist is someone who has all their faculties engaged at high levels. And dogs have their sensory switchboards lit up every time they step outside. Take Singer, for example.

Today, she steps outside tentatively, as if to make sure she senses everything there is to know about her world—she doesn’t want to miss anything. Her paws feel the melting snow on the deck, noting the temperature change in the air. She takes a quick look around, and focuses on one spot in the yard. I look, but I am only human—I don’t see what interests her. It is somewhat dark outside yet.

Her head alerts to a sight/sound/smell (any or either one-take your pick) and she stands in full concentration. I imagine, if we could hook her up to an fMRI machine, we’d see her brain lit up in all the pertinent areas of peak performance. Her alpha waves would be high. She exhibits no distraction, no preoccupation, no self-consciousness. I love to watch her, and this moment is available to her virtually every morning when we step out the door. Can you imagine being so engaged in your world every single day? So why do I have to interrupt her by calling her to do her business? She never seems to mind, but I always feel like I’m intruding on an artist who is just getting that special insight for her next brush stroke, or writing the next scene in her novel, or which experiment to perform next. But Singer is always forgiving. She sometimes is so into the flow of the moment that she will take a few extra seconds to respond, but I too am forgiving. After all, I’m the one interrupting her!

Dakota, our cat, is more zen-like when it comes to flow. He likes to hop into our bathtub on a regular basis and watch the water drops. Drip, drip, drip. How could anything be more boring? But Dakota is fascinated, every single time. I imagine he notices how the light reflects onto each drop, how fast the drop falls, the sound of the faucet as it strains halfway between on and off (I oblige Dakota in this particular activity by adjusting the faucet to just the right turn.) I love to see him totally absorbed, and have come back at times to see him still engaged, still absorbed, still in the flow.

Dog-cat relations update: I think Singer and Dakota are starting to bond more closely. Singer continues to give Dakota a quick swipe of her tongue when he passes by, and Dakota now doesn’t even flinch. It makes my heart swell whenever I see it. And, Singer is staying away from Dakota’s toys!!! I think that’s just major. Saylor never could resist.

We have a lot to learn from the animal kingdom, don’t you think?

Do Humans Need Training Too?

2012-01-21T19:25:00.000-08:00

Yes, I think they do. Today in our second dog training class, I was very uncoordinated for some reason. I couldn’t guide Singer while she weaved around orange cones by doling out treats at the proper time. I had to do the whole routine over again, with treats in my left hand so I could treat her faster (she was on my left side). The second time around, Singer was able to respond beautifully. We were practicing the heel command and she was supposed to look at me when I said “heel” as we angled around the cones, and I treated her the instant she looked at me. Singer fell right into the game, as if she were in a dog show. She knew the routine, it all came back to her. I was the problem.

For some reason, I wasn’t able to coordinate walking around cones and keeping my eye on Singer, while treating her at the exact time she rounded the cone. I think I need the class more than her at times. First, I have to get my act together so Singer clearly knows what I’m trying to show her. If nothing else, these classes show owners that they need this training just as much as their dogs do.

We were still struggling with “sit” and “down” today, although she is doing better. However, there was one game we played today that Singer excelled in. She was allowed to sniff a container with really enticing bits of meat inside of it, and then I called her name. If she looked up at me, she was treated; if she came when I called, she was given the jackpot—a fistful of goodies. Singer quickly caught on. I asked the teacher about it, explaining that she was looking at my treat hand and ignoring the pot of meat on the floor, expecting me to treat her. The teacher said I could go sit down, she “patterns easily.” She'd figured it out, and was on to our little trick. The other dogs were still trying to get at the meat container, and were torn between the meat and their owners. So Singer “patterns easily.” I think that means she’s smart. But I knew that, I’m her mom! Too bad I can’t take credit for her brains. Her breeder and previous owner deserve that credit.

Run, Singer, Run!

2012-01-18T09:37:00.000-08:00

In the cold early dawn, a midsize animal streaks with electrical speed across my backyard, her legs moving above the ground like a race horse. It takes her only seconds. She stops at the fence, stock still, and looks to see another wild animal scurry away into the bushes in a neighbor’s yard. Her head is held high, her tail aloft, and her body still as stone. I whistle sharply and she turns her head toward me for a second, then tucks her head into her body and gallops toward the deck before making a sharp detour toward the gate. She sniffs the snow and looks past the chain link fence, and I call her once again.

It is cold out! Singer makes her early morning ritual of streaking across the yard, checking to see what wild animal has dared to enter her domain, and she is so unaware of how magnificent she is to see which makes it all the more enticing. She is faster than God's commands. Our yard can’t be more than 70 yards wide and maybe 50 yards deep, yet she makes the most of it by racing around to certain check points, her form so perfect and automatic, it is utterly amazing. For a few seconds, I run with her in my mind and forget the cold. Then I remind her to “go potty!” She gives me a mindful glance, but then returns to her real duty: checking the yard for animal intruders. Her body can engage in high gear in no time at all and she does it all within the perimeters of this small space. It is amazing and kind of sad at the same time, as I yet again wish we had more space for her to run in. Once you see her run, you know she should not be confined. She needs to run, she needs to burn oxygen at a high level, her muscles fluidly working at a moment’s notice providing the speed in which she seems to fly through the air, her ears flapping behind her and her tail waving like a banner through the frigid air. Then it is over. I actually want her to “do it again!” like a kid, but understand that we don’t have much time, it is cold, she is there to do her business, and I have to go in and get ready for work. She also knows this. She will, after the third or fourth reminder, trot over to one or two different places in the yard, sniff quickly for a spot and then squat and do her business. I call out praises and notice the rose colored horizon as the sun comes up. I always make a connection with Singer, my runner, my magnificent goddess of running, my gazelle, and yes, maybe I’m amazed. I hope I feel this way every morning.

Canine Communication

2012-01-14T14:36:00.000-08:00

“Watson, come here…” When Alexander Graham Bell first realized he had invented a new form of communication that worked across the miles, he must’ve been thrilled.

On a smaller scale, it feels similar when the channels between humans and canines are suddenly clarified. We were “communicating” this morning in Singer’s obedience class and it did feel good. We both learned how certain signals, both verbal and nonverbal, could be interpreted by each other. Singer focused quickly on my hand, and watched closely to learn how she could get me to give her the treats. She picked up a difficult command, “leave it”, rather easily while the simple “sit” is still fuzzy for her.

The “leave it” command was taught by showing her a “low value” treat—a plain dog biscuit—then throwing it a short distance away while saying “leave it.” I had to block her as she went for it, and then treat her with “high value” treats—pieces of meat. She learned “leave it” after blocking her the first time. I think she saw the utility of the command. It somehow made sense to her that she wasn’t supposed to go after something, and quickly realized that the tastier treats were in my hand anyway. But “sit” and “down” seem rather pointless to her. She finally sat when the treat was drawn over her head as she watched (I remembered this trick from when Saylor took the first intro class). The down command was a little harder for her. We asked the teacher to come over and help us out. She got Singer to sit, then she lured her down by bringing the treat to the floor, and Singer went down with it to try to get it. When she was flat on the floor, she got her reward. “Good girl!” She seems really responsive to verbal praise, and she got a lot of it this morning. Treats helped, too.

There were quite a few dogs and their owners in class—about twenty in all. We met a female black lab, Maxine, seven months old, a rescue dog. Maxine sniffed at Singer and then decided she didn’t like her, but we kept the two from fighting. Maxine then growled at a Great Dane, who looked like he could’ve swallowed her up in one gulp. She’s a feisty one, Maxine. Her owner was really nice.

These commands like “sit” and “down” must seem contrived to dogs. They all quickly learn that they are getting treats in exchange for a lot of silly movements. To help us understand the canine perspective, the teacher had us try to get our dogs to sit with our backs facing the dogs. Singer didn’t do it, and I’m not sure any dog was able to do it. The teacher showed us that this is a perception issue —dogs think sitting means right in front of you when you have a treat in your hand. A rock solid sit is when the dog will sit on voice command no matter where you are and with or without a treat. We have a lot to work on this week! But I think the value of learning how to communicate with your dog is the real benefit of these classes—not perfect obedience, although I do want to make sure Singer always comes when she’s called.

Between Man and Machine

2012-01-13T15:57:00.000-08:00

That’s where I think most animals fall—they are somewhere between thinking, scheming, feeling, idea-generating, ego-cruising, evolving, loving man, and reliable, unchanging machines (until they break down).

Today at work, as I attempted to print out a 179-page document and then went to get my lunch, I assumed the job would be done and waiting for me when I got back. Wrong. The printer jammed. Well, dogs are sort of between the reliability of machines and the unpredictable nature of man. A child coming into a new home would have all sorts of emotions as she adjusts to new people, new family members, new environment. There would be many ups and downs, I’m sure. But Singer has been somewhere between reliable and unpredictable. Her nature keeps unfolding like a flower, although not always pleasantly. She is showing a preference for me, and only me, to take her outside to go potty. We have to work on that. Yesterday, Nate tried twice to take her out back to go potty, but she waited until I got home, took her on a walk and only then decides she wanted to go. Oh well. I feel foolish complaining, almost. But it is illustrative of my point. Singer is not a machine, she has her own feelings about her routines, yet she does conform to rules pretty well. That’s when expectations rise, and that’s when man and beast clash.

Sometimes man expects too much of beast. They are our friends, our family, and then we expect perfect canine behavior as well. We watch their behaviors and say, “Okay, this animal will be able to do this or that.” Then the animal decides that he or she doesn’t want to do this or that, without a clear reason why. I guess that’s why dog training is such big business. I bet there are more training manuals, classes, videos, etc. for training your dog than training your kid!

Tomorrow we start our intermediate dog training class for six weeks. I’m looking forward to it—we should have fun going through the exercises, and I’m hoping Singer will feel more comfortable with both Jeff and Nate as she learns to trust them more and respond positively to their commands. Jeff is attending, but Nate probably won’t go. I’m hoping he’ll take an interest, though, when he has the time. I’m sure she’ll do well, but I have to watch those expectations…! More on the class tomorrow!

Singer looking out at her yard, wondering where all that snow came from....

"I better see if there are any squirrels underneath my deck here..."

Goose Pond

2012-01-10T11:12:00.000-08:00

I can’t wait for spring—this spring-like weather we’re having notwithstanding. Spring is when the geese come flying back north. And Goose Pond is crowded with geese.

We first took Saylor there when she was about a year old. She probably got a crook in her neck from looking up in the sky at all the geese. There were some marshy trails we followed, but definitely, it was the sights and sounds that entranced us all. I cannot wait to take Singer there this March.

As I recall, we took Saylor right around the Spring Equinox. The area is a designated state natural area, about fifteen miles north of Madison. The 500 or so acres host hundreds of species of birds, not just geese. There are wetland habitat restorations going on, and tall grass prairie sites, perfect for walking your bird dogs. I imagine the experience is sort of like Disneyland for hunting dogs like Singer. She will be so excited, her body rigid in alert concentration, as she points for the birds. Saylor was a pointer, but not formally. She held her tail aloft and her head pointed, as if we were out hunting water fowl. Singer is such a natural hunter, I bet she’ll be going crazy with excitement.

Yesterday, I went back to work after two weeks. Tough getting used to my old schedule again, and knowing that Singer is crated for a good part of the day, although Nate comes home in the afternoon and lets her out before he leaves again. She seems fine though, and I keep reminding myself she spent a lot of time in the kennel. She is getting used to our routines. As if she is noting our particular temperaments for future reference, she watches us deliberately at breakfast, looking from one face to another. I smile as I think, “Turn around is fair play. You’ve had many people watching you and evaluating you these last two weeks. Now it’s your turn!”

Who Do You Like Best?

2012-01-07T14:10:00.000-08:00

Ah, this question was bound to come up, was it not?

Every parent with more than one child or pet secretly ponders this, or is possibly asked this by the child! I have only one child, but two pets. So, who do I like best?

Let me delay my answer for a bit. A quick look at the research shows that mom’s favoritism contributes to adulthood depression, even in the favored child. It seems that the favored child feels guilty about their status, while the unlucky child feels bitter. Don’t know if you can extrapolate to animals, but I will anyway. Yesterday, Dakota seemed to perceive my behavior toward Singer as favoritism. I thought his mock attack was an important sign that my behavior probably wasn’t as impartial as I’d assumed, even though I’ve been concerned about how Dakota feels lately.

There are also, apparently, hormones linked to maternal bonding. I felt very maternal towards Saylor on her last days with us, wanting to ease her suffering and protect her. During those few weeks before Singer came, I focused a lot on Dakota, buying him his kitty condo, catnip, taking him to the vet to make sure he was healthy, spending more time with him. Then suddenly the attention was divided.

Singer needed careful, loving attention at first because I could tell she was really frightened. She didn’t know where she was, who I was, and what was going to happen. Maternal instincts were high again. I fell right into the role of making sure she settled comfortably into our home. I thought I was dividing my attention between Singer and Dakota equally, but apparently not. It seems that Singer is also aware of how Dakota might be feeling because she again licked Dakota last night when we let her out of her crate. Singer seems to be trying to assure us that she will protect and love him. All that any mother could want. Can’t you just feel the bonding hormones surge?

So back to my original question: who do I like best? Well, dear reader, I like them both for different reasons. I really do appreciate having a cat, who is more independent and cuddly, who wants me to stare at him with adoration, but not necessarily reciprocate. Who thinks it’s okay to want to go outside near midnight, just because he feels like it, but then not care when I don’t take him out. (The audacity of that cat!)

And I appreciate that Singer watches me, trying to anticipate my next move so that she can be ready for me. Who loves and expects me to enjoy with her, our daily walks. Who wants to be with me almost all the time. And who likes hugs and cuddles, just like Dakota does.

Blue-Eyed Cat Turns Green-Eyed

2012-01-06T15:36:00.000-08:00

Remember yesterday’s post when I thought dogs’ emotions are not that complicated? Well, I forgot about cats. Today, I think Dakota showed signs of jealousy. I was in the kitchen, Singer was on a couch, while Dakota was behind her on his usual post. I was blowing kisses and saying what a good girl Singer is, then Dakota looked up and I said what a good boy he is. I won’t tell you what I call him…okay, okay, I call him: zboo-boo-loo-boo-noo-boo! (I suppose I’ve turned off more than a few readers now.) So anyway, I started sending kisses his way, and he responded with blinking at me, then he suddenly jumped off his perch and jumped up on Singer, then veered off on the top of the couch. It was a mock attack. This all happened so fast, Singer hardly turned her head before it was over. Jealousy, I fear. So, cats are more complicated than dogs! No harm was done, but Dakota’s message was clear: “I don’t like you saying sweet nothings to nobody but me!”

I can just about project anything I want onto these animals, and who’s to say I’m wrong? Pretty sweet deal, if you ask me…

On today’s walk, Singer and I encountered an older woman walking her two Labradoodle puppies—one black, one cream. Very cute! A few feet away, she bent down to make sure they sat while we passed. Singer hardly paid any attention to them, and I smiled at her and mentioned how cute they were. Like a mom that she is, she was paying attention to her “children”, making sure that they were obedient and not getting up from their sit. I thought about that as Singer walked on by. We humans spend so much time and effort to get our dogs to live with us in an acceptable manner. Some adhere to our rules, some don’t. Singer is an adherer. But then she has been brought up within an environment that also honors a dog’s nature, where she can run and hunt and be wild and free. I appreciate that. She has a centeredness that I believe is the result of this upbringing. No neurosis living in too much confinement, without the ability to express her animal side. Perfect balance. I hope to find venues where she will be able to run wild and free. At the moment, I don’t know where that might be, since I fear dog parks right now. Saylor was fine, she walked alongside us and no dogs ever attacked her. But Singer might run too far and fast, away from my sight, and then I’m not sure about the other dogs. I may regret that she may never have the chance to really run wild and free again, but will she? Who knows?

BTW, today I changed the paragraph under the banner of my blog to be more specific about its purpose. I intend to write about canine/human relationships, provide interesting insights into this experience of bonding with the animals (hopefully) and just be entertaining for a year. It makes me sweat a little trying to think how I can make this interesting for a whole year, but I’m gonna try! Keep me honest and tell me when it doesn’t work, okay?

I had to get this shot, even though you can't really see it very well. As you who have been following this blog know, Singer is obsessed with squirrels. Today's squirrel, in the crook of the tree, has a red tail! It must be Irish, Singer is thinking.

A Basketful of Squirrels

2012-01-05T17:54:00.000-08:00

I asked my son Nathaniel yesterday how he thought Singer was adjusting to her new home. He thought for a minute, then said she was probably disappointed. “Disappointed? Why?”

“She thought she’d get a basketful of squirrels on her pillow in her own room.” We both laughed. I know what he means. Looking at her, she does look like this princess who expects things to be given to her. That is, when she’s not focused on a chattering squirrel on a telephone line, sassing her and twitching its tail.

Singer is the child in the back of the classroom who sits quietly all day, unnoticed by the teacher or the kids. But when no one else knows the correct answer, Singer will come through. She just has this look about her. She notices everything without looking like she’s paying attention. She is quiet and almost dignified, if that’s possible with an Irish setter. She knows how to behave when it’s required of her, and she knows when she can just enjoy life as much as a dog can.

I imagine that she misses her home. Sometimes, when she’s still, looking into the distance, I wonder if she’s thinking about her people and doggie friends in Minnesota. Does she miss them? Does she miss the smells of her old home? Surely she does. No matter how much she seems bonded to us and to Dakota, it's likely that images of her old home flash through her mind from time to time. I have no idea about the inner life of dogs, (I’m no Patricia McConnell) but I suspect their emotional life is not nearly as complicated as humans. I don’t think they feel regret, for example. Their homesickness is probably a lot different than what people feel. She is, for the most part, an alert, calm and contented dog. She is enjoying her new life with us. She knows where the back door is, where her food and water are, and loves to watch her backyard like television. She checks on Dakota regularly, sniffing his head or his back. And she is getting closer to me and to Jeff and Nathaniel every day.

"What is that squirrel saying to me?"

"Dakota, did you see that??!!"

Mother Love

2012-01-04T12:32:00.000-08:00

Singer did something that borders on sainthood yesterday. I had to put her in the crate last night before we headed out to our yoga class. She looked at me like, “Why are you doing this? Don’t you trust me?” I gave her an extra squirt of liver paste in her Kong and shut the door. When we got home, she came bounding up the stairs after I let her out, so glad to see me. Then she went into the living room, where Dakota was stationed on his kitty condo, as usual. Now, a lesser dog might jealously lash out at Dakota right about then, furious that he has freedom in the house while she has to be caged…like some sort of animal! But Singer walked up to Dakota and started licking him in the most loving, slow way that it brought me to a standstill. Her tongue gently and carefully swept across Dakota’s back, as if she were his mother, cleaning her precious baby boy. I so wanted my camera, but of course these moments are rarely long enough for one to run and get it. Jeff, who was reading, didn’t see it. Dakota stepped off his perch and turned around to give his fur a quick swipe with his tongue, like a kid wiping away his mother’s kisses. The look on his face said, “Yuck!” I think Singer was trying to show me, “See, I love my brother already, even though he looks like a squirrel…” I actually think Dakota looks like a raccoon—he’s a seal bicolor ragdoll, and his coloring around the eyes gives him that masked look.

Irish setters have these liquid brown eyes that are so easy to anthropomorphize. They exude such love and tenderness, and a sort of wisdom, too. Their behavior can be so impetuously childlike, it’s hard to see wisdom in them, but trust me, it’s there. It’s a kind of stoic understated wisdom, like they are saying, “I know you think I’m brainless, but actually, I know more about the important things in life than you would ever guess.”

Singer fell asleep with me on the couch last night, tucked in by my side, her head snuggled in the crook of my arm. Her eyes started to slowly close, like a tired baby’s, and she breathed deeply. She would make her eyes pop open to check on me, then the sleepiness overcame her and took her to dreamland. I woke up about a half-hour later, and we both got up to get ready for bed. It’s amazing how energetic the night air makes her as she patrols the yard one last time before ending the day.

A Peaceable Kingdom

2012-01-02T14:53:00.000-08:00

Singer and Dakota have both staked out their positions for viewing the backyard through the bay window. Dakota, from his kitty condo perch on the left (which he never goes in, only on top) and Singer, from a seat on the couch. They watch all the scurrying squirrels, chipmunks and bunnies in the backyard. It’s like a Disney movie! And Dakota keeps an eye on all the birds flying to the birdfeeders in the neighbor’s yard. It’s hard to say what each of them thinks of the other one, but judging from this picture, it seems they are at peace with each other. At least during Singer’s first week in our home, that is to say. Singer will sniff Dakota, who will give a short mewp of protest, at most. No claws. Dakota will sometimes burst into a frantic cat scat, tearing through the living room, ears flattened, and leap on top of the couch, a wild look in his eye. But Singer placidly watches, no sign of the hunt instinct. Big test for her, and I think she passes.

Still, Singer goes in the crate when no one’s home. I bought another bed for her today, not as comfy as the old one, but she can’t destuff this one. Now I can rest easy when I go back to work next week. I also got her a rubber ball that you can stuff treats in (she also has an old Kong from Saylor). At first, she didn’t want to grab it when we bounced it for her in the house. Perhaps she is trained not to be rambunctious in the house? So I took her outside with it and tossed it around. It took several tries before she grabbed it up and started to play with it. Then she loved it. Reticence in an Irish setter—quite unusual!

I had to get new “snow studs” for my boots today, the old yak-traks don’t last very long. The wires break and get rusty. The new ones are rubber things that you pull around your boots with metal studs in the soles to grip the ice. A mild winter always produces more ice than normal, so these are an essential item for everyone who has a dog in urban areas. I mentioned to the salesman that we only have two more months until March, thinking he was a runner and wanted to be free of the ice. He said that he normally doesn’t wish his life away, but yes, this mild winter was hard on runners. I thought about that—here on the second day of the new year—wishing one’s life away. How many times have I wished for a day to come, hoping all the days until then disappear? I know something about wishing your life away—I’ve done it quite often. Here’s an idea: let’s not wish things were better, let’s be like the animals and just accept things as they are. This is going to be my new year’s resolution.

Singer March Rose

2012-01-01T11:19:00.000-08:00

I spend a lot of time deciding names for my animals. It’s important to me that they reflect something of their character. Saylor April Song was named because she was born in April, and I liked the poetic sound of an April Song. Saylor is merely a reference to sailing, a romantic occupation, spelled differently since she was a girl.

Singer came to us already named, except I added the “March Rose” because, can you guess? She was born in March and she is a rare beauty, and it sounds nice. Dakota is actually Dakota Moon, because he seems to be a lunar type, (kind of loony too!) and it sounded good together. Someone pointed out to me after we had named him that Dakota Moon is the name of a group, but I guess I didn’t steal it because I didn’t know about it then! My son named our first cat, Cloud Linden, because he was grey and white. He also liked Linden trees, which lined the street where I worked at the time.

Names help solidify our pets’ (and children’s) identities in our minds, creating an evocative image or perhaps metaphor for all our complex feelings we associate with them. In my family, my dad named all of his children. He took time to consider forebears and then he would choose a name that reflected something about us, some little attribute that would provide a familiar and comforting sound in his mind. I heard this story after he had died, so I can’t be sure if it’s true or not, but I like to think it is.

Singer March Rose, born in the last days of winter before the roses bloom while verdant stirrings underneath the crystalline snow have already started to push through, seeking the early spring sun. Singer March Rose, whose buoyant walk projects an assured grace. She is never far from her people. She is mindful, and moves through her world like a confident diva.

Okay, enough of this idolization. Singer is not an angel. Like an actress who has just performed the role of her lifetime, Singer threw away her awesome façade on Friday. We went out to eat on Friday night and put her in the crate. I threw an old blanket over the top, thinking she would find it more den-like and settle down. She licked the Kong with the liver paste in it, but soon heard us getting ready to leave and started to whimper. I thought of her throughout dinner, and hoped she wasn’t too lonely. When we got home, Singer had pulled the blanket through the wire crate and ripped it open, taking the stuffing out of it. “See, her name Singer is really after the sewing machine—she loves fabric!” joked my husband. Then yesterday, I set out sandwiches for lunch while Singer watched. We have not given her any table scraps, not even one, since she wasn’t given any in her former home, and I don’t want her to start begging. So I turned around and saw from the corner of my eye her mouth open near my sandwich. “No!” I shouted, and she stopped. I couldn’t help remembering the day when Saylor, as a young dog at a show, used her paw to swipe a ham sandwich from the judge’s table. That’s why she didn’t win that day, we told everyone later. Anyway, I’m glad my dog isn’t perfect, it’s too intimidating!

Walking Away From the Old Year

2011-12-31T09:56:00.000-08:00

Singer waits patiently while I work at my laptop this morning. I told her we were going on a walk, a special one that lasts exactly one hour. I’ve timed it—doorstep to doorstep. It’s a bike trail that parallels a golf course. In the off season, I used to walk Saylor on the edge of the golf course, it was so beautiful and I loved the feel of the springy turf underneath our feet. Then the golf course ends and we walk between the bike trail and the backyards of Shorewood Village, nestled within Madison. There is a certain dog that lives along this route, I’ll be sure to get Singer on the trail before we come to his house. He’s a barker and I think they have an invisible fence that stops him from lunging at walkers. The trail goes all the way to the university, but we’ll stop and turn around at a street called Shorewood Boulevard. Then the route back is the same. I love this route, and look forward to showing it to Singer. Today the world is frosty with a crusty snow, should be very pretty.

Singer doesn’t know the word “walk” yet. I imagine she ran among pine trees with her doggie friends to get her exercise, a free and wild existence weaving through the trees under a wide open sky. Compare that to this rather regimented “walk” business, and it's no wonder that Singer blandly looks at me when I say "walk?" Saylor loved her walks. I am proud to say that we walked every day of her life, except when we were on vacation and the last few weeks of her life. The word “walk” would elicit excitement, her ears would perk up, and she would look around for a shoe that she would pick up in her mouth to bring to me. “No, that’s not my shoe, that’s Daddy’s!” Sometimes she would pick up my shoe, and I had to get her to drop it so I could put it on. These humans need their shoes for some reason when they walk, so I’ll help them out!

So Singer is snoozing on the couch, oblivious to my plan. But I have confidence that she will soon look forward to our daily walks, just like Saylor did. Today, we will be walking away from the old year, and toward a new year. It’s meditative to walk, and I love to think about my life while allowing the images of nature to soothe my consciousness, seeping in like a mysterious balm through the wind, the snow, the trees, the birds, the sky. Singer will be no doubt an alert sentinel, her head attuned to every animal, scent or sound, excitement rippling through her muscles, propelling her magnificent, prancing walk.

This is near the beginning of the bike trail, that is also along a railroad track. As we cross over to the next year, Singer waits for me to show her which way to go...

Notice how many bike tire tracks, even in this slippery weather! Madison is a big bike city.

This is where we get off the trail to walk along the golf course. I stopped to take a picture, and Singer turns around to see what I am doing...hence, the back end shot!

We stop to take a look around. Singer notices everything.

"I think I like this, Mom!" Her coat looks so pretty against the rusty colored pine needles.

Regeneration

2011-12-29T09:46:00.000-08:00

It is awesome to behold a new generation, whether it's a human baby or dog. In my case, the dog is remarkably similar to its prior generation, which has this redeeming quality that is utterly amazing. When you miss someone, it's the little things that come to mind: the look in their eye, the way they smiled, the way they smelled. Those things you know you will never experience again when the person or pet passes on. But yet...you can experience at least some of them again with a dog, I've found. I have witnessed it these last few days. Singer is not Saylor but she is so similar to a young Saylor that I fall in this reverie of thinking it is her, only healthy. And I'm several years younger again! In the backyard, Singer plays with a ball like a young prancing Saylor did so many years ago. I can almost feel my mouth drop a little as I watch her in the sun, knowing it's not her, yet feeling like it is. All my sorrow just melts away at those moments. I've been trying to think if this is a good thing, or bad thing. Is it truly redemptive? I don't know, but it feels very right to have Singer in my life right now. She is not quite Saylor, she doesn't do everything Saylor did, but there are enough things that burn away the corrosive sadness to let the warm light of love shine through again, and I relive those moments I shared with Saylor. I think this is a good thing.

Today, Singer met our neighbor dog, Pollyanna, who is a ten year old Springer Spaniel. Singer barked, but she stopped when I held her collar and told her no. Polly's owner, Nancy, urged us to let the dogs sniff noses across the fence, but I am being extra cautious with introductions, both with neighbor dogs and with Dakota. Who was it who said, "Prepare for the worst, expect the best." I am doing just that with Singer. I'll be out with her in the yard for awhile. She loved being loose in the yard, wagging her tail full speed while she watched shadows of birds flying, thinking they were small animals scurrying on the ground. She rushed the fence when she saw a bunny in the next yard, but stopped when I called her.

Introducing Another Walk Route

2011-12-28T12:26:00.000-08:00

I took Singer on another walk that I routinely used, this one in my neighborhood. It runs about 25 minutes long, unless Saylor would tug to go a different way. She would get bored with the same routes sometimes, and then we would vary the walk. I wasn't too surprised to see Singer behave like Saylor used to when she was young--she tried to chase a squirrel up an old oak tree:

That is so "Irish setter" ! They all think they can climb big old trees and catch those squirrels! I just laughed when this happened and it brought back so many memories. She stopped when she saw another squirrel a little later in the walk and of course wanted to take off after it. But she is very responsive to my voice commands, and quickly abandoned the idea. She doesn't always sit or lie down when asked, though, so we will have to work on that. The next photo was when I stopped to get my camera out, she stopped too, and so this shot is when she was trying to turn around to see me:

I only got these two of her on our walk today because I was handling her poop bag and a camera. But she enjoyed herself and I loved seeing how similar she is to my young Saylor. We saw a few dogs on this walk and she seems less wary of them. Also, I took her to the vet's today, and she was so good. She was very calm, except she is so nosy and wanted to sniff all the food bags on the shelf and of course pushed off the small items on the floor. A little kid watched her and laughed as I tried to put them back on the shelf. Outside, there is a hair salon right next to the clinic and a hair stylist came rushing out without his coat, "What kind of dog is that? We all saw you walking by and thought what a beautiful dog!" He apparently really wanted to know, so of course I told him.

I put Singer in her crate when we got home because I had to run out to buy some groceries. She doesn't like to be crated, but that is what we will have to do until I'm absolutely sure there will be no chasing Dakota while we're not home. She has been very good around Dakota, who has a perennial annoyed look on his face when he sees her. He's probably thinking, "I thought we were done with bringing up a setter..." But overall, I'm very pleased with how the two of them are getting along. Singer knows Dakota is a pet and part of the family, like she is. She wants to be part of the family, I can tell, which is probably why she hates the crate. She is currently snoozing on the couch, her favorite place in the house so far because she can look out the bay window into the backyard, where bunnies sometimes dare to enter.

Her First Full Day in Madison

2011-12-27T09:07:00.000-08:00

Singer literally prances as she walks. Her head swivels around, looking at her new environment, and her paws curl cutely as she swiftly walks along. We headed to Garner Park this morning, a favorite walk I used to take with Saylor. There is a good mix of prairie, pine trees and woods, and hills in this park that borders a busy street called Mineral Point. Cars whiz up a hill along the edge where a sidewalk meanders through tall oak trees. Check out the picture called Road to the Park:

In the park itself, there is a beautiful prairie that is maintained by the city. I've seen deer there, and there is the usual wildlife scattered throughout. There is a small copse of pine trees right in the middle of the prairie--very pretty:

Singer stood at the ridge of a hill and looked around, soaking in all that she could sense through her eyes, ears and of course her nose. I think she liked what she saw.

She's Here! Singer is Home

2011-12-26T17:03:00.000-08:00

Above: Singer in the car, coming home.
Below: Nate and Saylor, when she was the same age as Singer is now.

Singer and Nate Dec. 26, 2011

Jeff and Singer, in the kitchen

See how calm the animals are? Dakota on my lap, Singer lying near us.

As you can tell from the pictures, Singer is home. She was very frightened at first, and getting into the car was an ordeal for her. She shivered the whole way home. Kate had to coax her in and we took a long time to coax her out. She knows the word, "House" because she ran up to the door when I asked her if she wanted to go inside the house. She took a quick tour of the house, then we went and showed her the crate in the basement and offered her water. She went into the crate, so we decided to leave her there for a while. Dakota came downstairs, Singer's ears went up and she watched as he sauntered near her. Dakota was unimpressed and decided to go back upstairs. Singer watched both Nate and Jeff a bit warily, so she seems to be a bit afraid of men. We all decided to give her a short walk around the block, since the weather is so nice, around 40 degrees and sunny. She perked right up, started sniffing the ground and looking around. She has a very springy walk, very energetic. She reminds me of Saylor when she was quite young, about a year old. She enjoyed seeing the squirrels and sniffing the ground as she walked along, and seemed to relax more. She saw a Golden Retriever down the street, Ally, who can be cantankerous at times, so we decided to wait to let her and her owner, a retired gym teacher who is a neighbor of ours, pass. Singer watched warily. She tends to be very submissive around Nate, especially, but she quickly responds to his warmth and tenderness. Already, she seems to know that this is her home. She is very smart, I can tell. She also loves kisses on her head, and will lick your face when you kiss her. I think I'm in love.

Tonight, she will sleep in Saylor's old bed right next to my side, a leash over the bedpost just in case she decides she wants to find Dakota. But everything is progressing really well, and we are very happy to have her. More tomorrow.

Dakota is Doing Okay -- For Now

2011-12-22T09:04:00.000-08:00

The new vet checked out Dakota, listened to his slight wheezing sounds with his stethoscope, and looked at me with a quizzical look on his face. "You heard those sounds just with your ear?" I told him I bent down close to listen. But still, they were pretty hard to hear, he said. I blushed as I realized how neurotic he thought I was. But remember, we had just lost Saylor not too long ago, I wanted to remind him but didn't. What had I missed with her last illness?

We decided not to treat Dakota's asthma. Instead we discussed giving him a trial of Prozak to help him with the transition of bringing Singer into our home. He assured me that it couldn't hurt. So we will try it with him for a month or two, then taper him off of it. "It should give him more confidence," the vet noted. And perhaps he will need it to deal with an unfamiliar dog in the house who just may decide that he's a squirrel. I don't want him cowering under the couch all day.

Ambivalence came back with a vengeance last night around two in the morning. I looked out to see snow falling, and remembered how much Saylor loved the snow. She loved licking it off the sidewalk on our walks. She loved prancing in the snow in our backyard. The moonlight casts a greyish blue light on newly fallen snow that is so ethereal. I couldn't help but think of her and wish she was here. She is my angel dog.

Does Age at Adoption Make a Difference?

2011-12-20T10:49:00.000-08:00

In reviewing my earlier post, I was struck how different it feels to adopt an older dog than a puppy. I have been thinking about the similarities between human and dog adoptions and wonder how far the analogy can be taken. When we decided to adopt Saylor as a nine-week old puppy, we were all pretty excited. We didn't worry how she would fit in with the family (e.g., Dakota) and we didn't second-guess all of our choices. We went crazy buying puppy toys and equipment and never thought about anything negative. Just positive joy. And true to our feelings, what followed was pure joy, for the most part. I'll skip the puppy trials.

But now, I am second-guessing everything we do in preparation for Singer. She is, after all, an adult dog, with her preferences set. I even hesitated to buy her a toy, wondering if a typical squeaky toy would be too "juvenile" for her tastes...I laugh even as I write this. Neurotic, I guess.

I am taking Dakota to our new vet today to check him out. Since kittenhood, he's suffered from mild asthma, slight wheezing, but nothing more serious. I want to be sure he's feeling fine when Singer comes, but I also realize that this is in keeping with my more neurotic feelings this time around. I have doubts, and want every thing to be okay, so I am bringing Dakota to the vet's, just to make sure. I wonder if adoptive parents of older children feel the same way? Do they doubt their decisions more than parents of newborns?

Waiting to Adopt Our New Dog

2011-12-18T13:27:00.000-08:00

Our beloved Irish setter, Saylor April Song, died on Sunday, December 4, 2011 after a short illness with pneumonia and newly diagnosed diabetes. She was eight years old--too young to leave us so soon. When our breeder heard of our loss, she offered to give us a four year old female, related to Saylor through their paternal side. She is Singer, a Canadian champion, who needed a new home because she doesn't fit in with the breeding program. We accepted, ambivalently at first (no one can replace Saylor) but now are looking forward to receiving her the day after Christmas.

We have a cat, Dakota, who is used to a rollicking Irish setter. He helped Saylor to grow up and now is wondering where she is. He's been nervous and clingy these past few days. He's twelve years old, and I think he knows on some level that Saylor has died. We were concerned when we heard that Singer has never been around cats, but I believe she can be trained to behave. We hope Singer will help to heal Dakota's loss, too. I believe he misses her as well.

I am preparing our home just like I imagine an adoptive parent would while waiting for their new child to arrive. I wonder, what is she like? How is she like Saylor? How is she different? I have washed all of Saylor's bedding, since she had pneumonia, and who knows where she picked it up, (could've been at the vet's, the only place that seems possible). So Singer will have fresh clean bedding. I bought her a new toy, a dolphin that has a quieter sound created from crushed plastic bottles, and is made of durable wool. I have her food and treats, and have signed us up for a training class in January. A lot of my equipment is still usable from Saylor, which saves us a lot of money. This is good, considering Saylor's last vet bill.

I long to look into Singer's eyes and ponder her temperament. My breeder says she is sweet and loves to cuddle, which is generally true with all Irish setters, I believe. I look forward to learning about her nuances that make her unique, her special preferences, gifts and talents. Like human babies, they are all unique and special. Even their scent. I loved to smell Saylor's warm soft head and feel her rough paws while looking into her brown eyes, so full of love and contentment. I know I will find something similar in Singer's eyes.