Is there a doggie summer camp somewhere close to
Madison? I want to send my Irish
setter, a nice young female, to camp in a rural area with lots of rolling hills
and woods to play in, nice young doggies to run with, and a good camp leader to
walk through basic discipline with her.
I thought of this yesterday, when I was home in the
afternoon with a headache, trying to get a blueberry bush planted. So my
headache may be influencing this, but I got the great idea as Singer tried to
get my attention as I looked online for information on amending the soil and
where to plant the blueberry bush. She was excited and impatient that I was
home in the early afternoon and kept pawing my laptop (both she and Dakota hate
my laptop—it takes so much of my attention!) I found what I was looking for and
went to the garden center to purchase the soil amendment ingredients I needed.
One of them was cocoa bean shells, the kind that smell like chocolate.
I got my gardening done, and spread the rest of the cocoa
bean shells around my Vanderwolf pine because it loves acidic soil. Something
about this, though, didn’t sit right with me as I put away my tools so I went
back online to see what else I could learn. Bingo. After just a quick search, I
found out why.
I finally remembered reading about cocoa bean shells being toxic
to dogs when several links popped up. So, knowing Singer loves to munch on
inedible items, like dirt and cat poop, I decided to send Jeff to the garden
center again to get some wood chips to cover the cocoa bean shells. Husbands
are good for things like this—they run errands when you’re making dinner, or
feeding the animals, or when your headache just won’t quit. And mine wasn’t.
After dinner, we spread the cedar mulch over the cocoa bean
shells, and then just to be safe, I put a plastic fence-like material around
the drip line, weighing it down with sticks. And put an actual rabbit fence
around my blueberry plant, which, by the way, was a Mother’s Day present. And
so, Singer is watching me, trying to contain her excitement, waiting for the
moment my attention lapses. I can see her out of the periphery of my eye. She
prances like a young girl, practicing ballet. My headache seems to worsen and I
can intuit what will happen next.
When the moment is right, she moves in and starts to nibble
some of the beans around the edges. Both Jeff and I catch her, yell at her, and
she runs away, duly cowed. But then she sneaks back, again and again, to try to
eat that enticing chocolately yummy stuff Mom has spread for her to eat. She
knows it’s for her, why would her mom put it out in her backyard if it wasn’t?
We spent the better part of the evening watching her try to
sneak the shells, stopping her as she approached. She’s very obedient when
someone is watching her. But I worry she will dig up the treats when we’re not
looking. That’s when I got the bright idea that this young dog needs a summer
camp—a place where she can run and play and tire herself out, learn some
discipline and come home all relaxed and happy. Just like Nathaniel did when he
was eleven or twelve. He learned a thing or two. We missed him terribly for a
week, but knew he was having fun. And he grew up a little bit, too!
We probably won’t be sending Singer to summer camp this
year, or next. Instead, I will probably dig up the cocoa bean shells and throw
them away, using only cedar mulch. I just don’t want to chance it that Singer
will eventually learn to keep away. Sigh.
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