Goose Pond

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?

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

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

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

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

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

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!