Crazy, not stupid

Our neighbor from across the road in Berkeley Springs died last week after a short illness. We were saddened and surprised by the news, since it was only a couple of weeks ago that we exchanged pleasantries as we edged around his truck on our narrow dirt road.
We went to the funeral yesterday and came away wishing we'd known him better. We knew that he played the organ at his church and played piano for some local productions. What we didn't know is that he played eight instruments--including the ukulele--and performed with jazz bands when he was still a teenager.
After the service, we introduced ourselves to his oldest daughter and told her we were his neighbors. After we described which house we live in, she said, "Are you the ones with the dog Dad used to call Big Stupid?"
Now we're trying to figure out which dog he was referring to. Snoop? Zorro? My dad suggested it could have been one of his dogs, since they often go over to his property to do their business.
Denny thinks he was referring to Zorro because of his habit of barking at the moon, fireworks and gunshots. Now we'll never get a chance to explain that Zorro isn't stupid, just crazy.
RIP Gordon LaTourette. A thoughtful neighbor and a good man.

Unsettled skies

Not much to report. We are still enduring the hottest summer in memory, punctuated this week by violent thunderstorms. Zorro has spent a lot of time in the basement. But at least he seems to recover fairly quickly; last summer, he wouldn't venture far from the gate for days after a thunderstorm. Now, he'll venture all the way to Kensington and sometimes farther if there are other dogs around. I've reduced his Prozac dosage and plan to wean him off by the end of the summer.
He still barks and runs in circles every time our neighbor opens her squeaky screen door, but will stop if I tell him to sit and give him a treat. That's progress. The main problem I'm wrestling with is occasional and unpredictable blow-ups around other dogs. I wonder if I'm contributing to the problem by tensing up when I see another dog (especially a big dog) approaching. A guy pushing a stroller and pulling golden retriever passed us this morning and Zorro was fine.

Surviving the summer

Last weekend was the hottest we can ever remember in Berkeley Springs. High 90s on Saturday and not much of a cooldown at night. And as luck would have it, my parents came to visit, with their three dogs.
Fortunately, Zorro was a pretty good host: there were only a couple of dust-ups, and they were over quickly. Mostly, the dogs languished on the porch, along with the rest of us, trying to catch a breeze.
On Sunday, Denny and Zorro went home early, and that was a good thing. A quick, violent storm blew up shortly after Mom, Dad and Chip returned from their golf game. I was on the porch and heard a loud crack, then saw a flash of light not 50 yards from our house. Lightening struck one of our trees, tearing the bark right off of it. If Zorro had been there, I'm not sure he would have ever gotten over it.
Zorro continues to show self-restraint around most dogs we encounter on the running path. He's even made friends with a couple of small blue heelers we see most mornings. Their owner insists that Zorro is also a blue heeler. Rather than get into an argument over Zorro's heritage, I just nod and smile. Last week, she told me that if he acts up around dogs, I should just grab him, say ZZZT! and roll him over on his back. Sure, that'll work. She's obviously a Dog Whisperer devotee.

The puddle puzzle

In an earlier post, I mentioned how eagerly Zorro laps up puddles on the path. Denny and I thought it was amusing. I don't think so any more. In this column, from a USA TODAY contributor, Sharon Peters describes how her American Eskimo rescue , a long-term victim of severe neglect, did the same thing. The poor dog had gone long periods without water and learned to store it up as a survival tactic.

http://www.usatoday.com/life/lifestyle/pets/2010-07-20-pettalk21_N.htm

An incident

Training is an ongoing process. I have the bruises to show it.
Last Thursday, I took Zorro out for what I thought would be a short moon run. The weather has been insanely hot, punctuated by thunderstorms, so I take every opportunity to get Zorro out and about, and he's always happy to run when the moon is up.
As we hit the path, I saw a woman walking toward us with a small, short-haired brown dog. As I'm accustomed to doing, I pulled Zorro off the path and put him in a sit. I do this dozens of times every week and usually there's no problem. Zorro will look at the dog, but that's it.
Not this time. I think the dog may have growled at Zorro, or insulted his heritage in some manner, because the next thing I knew, I was flat on the ground with a face full of dirt. Needless to say, I lost hold of the leash.
Here's where it gets interesting: once Zorro got up to the offending dog, he stopped. He didn't jump on the dog, and the dog didn't go after him. They just stared at each other. I managed to right myself and put my foot on the leash before anything escalated. I apologized to the dog's owner, who said her dog was "unpredictable." A passing runner asked me if I was OK. I said I was, and continued our our walk, but when I woke up the next day I felt like I had been mowed over by a semi.
We haven't had any similar confrontations since then but when I encountered the same woman on Sunday, she turned around and went in the other direction. Meanwhile, I'm making Zorro do more sit/stays on his walk.

Buzzkill

Border collies are supposed to be smarter than the average dog, but sometimes, I wonder. On Sunday--a delightfully cool day in WV--Zorro stirred up a nest of yellow jackets during his morning walk with Denny. The enraged yellow jackets burrowed into Zorro's fur, and when Denny tried to beat them off, they went after HIM. Denny got stung three times in the arm and he thinks Zorro was stung in the rear, judging from the way he jumped. Zorro seemed unaffected by the stings, which could not be said for Denny. His arm swelled up and he was in considerable discomfort for the rest of the day. I've since heard many other stories about dog-yellow jacket encounters, but I expect more from Zorro.
On a more positive note, we're having thunderstorms all week and Zorro seems to be handling them well, even though I've lowered his Prozac dose. There were several loud rumbles last night and he didn't even hide in the bathtub. He went for a good run with Denny this morning, mainly because there were other dogs in the park and he was in pursuit.

A rescued Leonberger

Here's a photo of Callie, a rescue dog we met at the Bonnie Doone in Grand Bend, Ontario. Lilly is part Leonberger, a German dog of mammoth proportions. But Callie, who is also part Golden Retriever, is a gentle giant. She's happy to recline in front of the registration desk and greet guests. The Bonnie Doone's owners adopted Callie from an animal shelter in nearby Goderich. She had been abused, and for a while was afraid of men, particularly those with grey or silver hair. Happily, kind treatment by an older gentleman who stayed there for a week helped her overcome her fears. Now she seems to love everyone. And only someone with a heart of stone could fail to love her.