WordPlay

by Doranna

Restraint?  Moi?

Well, yes.  In that this year, I’m not dressing the dogs up, hanging ornaments from their ears, wrapping them in scarves, or posing them to look brightly at the camera.

It’s been a hard year for so many of us.  In particular, I find myself regretting once more the impact that Lyme has had on my life, and on my ability to stay connected to the people who are important to me.

And yet…

There’s always something to be thankful for, and gifts on the way.

This year, ConneryBeagle’s holiday gift to me was to go out in the field and persist like crazy on his certification track (allows us to enter the Tracking Dog test in January), in spite of a stealth sinus infection (now being treated) and a Very Unfortunate Encounter with a Cactus.

Heading out from the start flag...

In my world, we celebrate Christmas.  But wherever you’re coming from this time of year, I hope you’re having a good one, with things to be thankful for.

Yes, it is I.  The one who took all the Funs for the day.

Oh the guilt.

Well, it’s all about the muse, as usual.  Because this summer I indulged, and I went back to the world of veterinarian Dale Kinsall and his Sully Beagle.

I always have to say this: I started this series before I had ConneryBeagle, and certainly before I had TWO Beagles.  It went through more publisher foolery than I even want to think about, and finally found a home at Five Star and WorldWide Mystery (and now with FoxAcre Press).  By that time, my ponderings of “should I get a Beagle?” had come to fruition.

But Sully isn’t Connery, and he isn’t Dart–no matter how many times I pose them for cover shots.  He is simply BEAGLE.

Anyway, Nose for Trouble just came out, and Scent of Danger will be available again before the end of the year.  And in the meantime, suddenly…novella!

Tracking Murder is an interim piece–one that fits nicely between Books 2 (Scent of Danger) and 3 (um, not yet written).  But in the meantime, it stands deliciously on its own–so if you’re looking for an introduction to the series, it does that, too.

(And yes, it’s listed at Backlist eBooks, with ALL the retail links…at this clickie…right here…clickie clickie clickie)

About those FUNS?

It’s Dale!

It’s Sully!

It’s Dale & Laura!

It’s tracking! It’s tracking in a spot I love!

It’s Dart Beagle on the cover!  It’s the actual location on the cover!

It makes me want more, more, MORE! of Dale & Sully!

I can see that exclamation points will be in short supply after this blog.

So yes.  I have taken ALL the funs for the day.  But I’m not totally selfish.  Because the whole point of writing fiction is to share it.  At least, that’s the point for me.  The more sharing, the more funs.

Don’t you think?

You, sir, are neither a scholar nor a gentleman.

That’s what I say.  What ConneryBeagle has to say is more to the point:

ConneryBeagle: BAWHFUL!

Each weekend we can, we go tracking with a friend and her Papillion and her Border Collie.  Zoom the BC, to be specific.

As you may recall, ConneryBeagle has no interest in socializing with other dogs in any rare moment when he’s not actually fearful of them (thanks to the series of giant breed dogs who slipped their handlers to come mow us down, back in his first three years).

ConneryBeagle: BAWHFUL!

But quite soon in this training arrangement, it became evident that Connery not only trusted Zoom—one of those dogs who is so grounded that he gives off calming vibes—but that he kind of has a boy-crush on Zoom.

ConneryBeagle: Zoom is a GOOD BOY!

Lookit that face!

Dart thinks so, too, and every time we track we reward the boys with BC/Beagle time afterward.

So, back to the tracking.  Remember a couple weeks ago when we were talking about living with other people’s dogs?  Yeah.  This is more of that.  Because last weekend while tracking around the edge of the campus soccer field, we noticed that a guy with four big dogs off-lead had taken over the center of the field, and that one of his dogs, a white Pittie mix, was giving Zoom the hard eye from a distance.

I like a nice Pittie as well as the next dog person.  But this dog is a problem waiting to happen.  And Zoom didn’t ever so much as look at this dog.  He was working.

I was the tracklayer and back-up person, and I did my best to interrupt the hard stares simply by putting myself between the two dogs and breaking line of sight, and there was enough distance involved so didn’t become a huge concern.  But we were aware.

The dog’s owner?  Not so much.

We completed the track (Zoom did a nice job!) and headed back to the cars, taking a big wide curve around the center of the field because of Idiot and his dogs.

It wasn’t enough of a curve.

All four dogs came running for Zoom—mostly galumphy Lab types, but led by the Pittie with the hard eye.

Maybe I should step aside and say it’s very much one thing to be approached by one dog (as inappropriate as that might be).  But four dogs, once excited by circumstances, will pack up on a fifth dog.  It doesn’t matter how nice they are.  It doesn’t matter if one-on-one they’re fine.  Pack behavior will spiral out of control very quickly—especially if, say, they take offense at the fact that the dog they’re bearing down on is quietly, appropriately telling them to get lost.

Now imagine you’re Zoom, and these four dogs are heading your way with intent.

My friend and I aren’t new at this.  She put Zoom on a down-stay, as quiet and still as possible (but yes, growling.  Very appropriately, too).  I stepped out between them with my arms spread, holding a batch of tracking flags (orange flags on wire, used to mark construction perimeters and underground utilities—you’ve seen them).

“My dogs are friendly!” said Mr. Idiot.

Excuse me while I use some language in response:

Are you effing kidding me?

Oh, okay, I almost used some language.

As if under any circumstances it’s okay to allow your FOUR large dogs run at a strange dog.  As if the white Pittie hadn’t been targeting us from the get-go, and as if he wasn’t planning to ignore my Go-Aways to get to Zoom.  As if any of his dogs were paying the least bit of attention to any and all of our signals that they were not welcome.

As if he EVER attempted to call the dogs away.

Because of course, he and his dogs are the center of the universe.  It is all about them.  Naturally, we were there specifically to welcome, admire, and be harassed by them.

I don’t think so.  I went for the white Pittie and slapped the flags on the ground in front of him.  He thought about going around me; I slapped the ground again.

It was enough.  He turned around.

And Mr. Idiot?  “Geeze, I’m sorry, they weren’t going to bother you.”

You are wrong, Mr. Idiot with your illegally off-leash dogs.  We were beyond bothered—and if we hadn’t managed your hard-eyed dog and his “Yeah!  Yeah!  What you said!” buddies, there would have been an Incident of Significant Proportions.

But we didn’t linger to explain this, because…see above.  Petulant Idiot.  We moved on, keeping our movement casual and our body language quiet.  Getting away from the still unrestrained pack.

He wasn’t done, though.  After a moment, his even more petulant voice followed us across the field.  “Oh, thank you very much!  You scared the $#@! out of my dog! Nice job!”

Did I?  Good.  Maybe that dog will think twice before running at someone again.

Did I?  Good.  I meant to.

It’s people like Mr. Idiot who make it hard for everyone—who create situations where they blithely intrude on everyone else’s enjoyment of public space.  Who make things hard for responsible dog owners everywhere, by tainting us with his blithe, entitled, immature irresponsibility.  (How’s that for a string of disdainful adjectives?)

Children don’t need to face big loose dogs; people who fear dogs don’t deserve to deal with big loose dogs.  No one’s dog deserves to face a pack running at them, and not everyone’s dog is going to take it with obedient restraint. What happens when the target dog snarls an entirely appropriate, “Back off!  You are not welcome!”–?

It’s exactly the excuse a dog with a hard eye is looking for, that’s what.

Dear Mr. Idiot:  A public place is not your dog’s personal playground.  You are not entitled to have your dogs off-leash just because you want to.  You are not Special.  Your dogs are not Special.  And whatever consequences your dogs face because of your humongous Personal Responsibility Fail, on your head be it.

Because no one’s dog ever gets to touch Mr. Zoom.  Or ConneryBeagle.  Ever again.

No, seriously--Lookit that face!

Well, that’s what I say…what I did about it.  What would you have done?  What have you done?

It’s been an interesting Weekend with Dogs.

Belle Cardigan Corgi: i don’t think you have to tell this story.

No, really, I do.  It’s part of the whole weekend.

Belle: i will pretend i am not here.

Here.  Just hide over here in your Princess Bed.  Probably for the best.

The past weekend is proof positive: to live with dogs, you have to live humble.  And be ready to laugh.

We started the weekend with the 0-dark-30 wake-up call, so we could head out to lay track before it gets too hot to ask the dogs to run it once it’s aged (we’re working Dart at two hours, Connery at anywhere from one to two hours, Zoom our BC friend between two and three, and Coz the little Papillion at thirty minutes.  Interweaving the track laying & running is sort of an art.)  This weekend we were at the UNM campus, which is where the VST is held and contains great sprawling content opportunities–concrete, asphalt, grass, gravel, mulch…

It also has a freaking lot of uncontrolled off-leash dogs, but that’s a rant for another day.

It also has automatic water sprinklers.  These aren’t supposed to go off after 7am at a state institution, but as we found out while Coz was doing his little track…they do.  They really, really do.  (I present for your amusement the image of two handlers not only caught in this particular gantlet, but hunkering down to finish running the track, complete with outraged outcry as the sprinklers spun around to startling new orientations.  Kinda wonder what the passing students thought…)

Well, as we said at the time: we weren’t hot any longer!

Connery took his turn to bravely handle a freaking off-leash dog and overcome his concerns to return to his track, and then Dart ran.  For the past couple of sessions, Dart’s been struggling with the notion of tracking extensive hard surfaces–especially when it comes to concrete, which holds less scent than asphalt.  It’s been obvious from his reaction to these surfaces that the scenting experience is so different that he doesn’t consider tracking over it to be the same task.

This time out, I deliberately laid a track that was mostly asphalt and concrete, with transitions from one to the other–including stairs.  (Scent behavior on stairs is pretty outrageous, never mind concrete stairs.)  On another dog, this might not have been a good choice, but with this dog…evil genius that he is…there have been too many times I’ve presented him with a giant leap of performance criteria only to see the whole thing click in his head.

Had you been hovering over the campus on Saturday morning, you would have heard:

CLICK!

And there was celebrating by all!  Good boy Dart!

Belle: maybe she will forget about…well, nevermind.

Not much chance of that.

Dart came home to a bath, after which I took photos to use in the cover of the current Dale & Sully story.  And here you go, a peekview–up above!  Plus a view that I’m not going to be using, but can’t resist…

The cuteness factor here is far too great weapon to use casually, so it didn't make the cut for cover. But honestly--!

While Dart was drying, a fellow raw feeder came by with sheep bones that she couldn’t use.  It turned out to be a sheep skeleton, which fits into freezer space somewhat differently than a bundle of bones–it’s an interesting visual–but it was all very much appreciated.  Especially by the dogs, who will be exercising their jaws and flossing their teeth for some time to come.

Sheep bones come in handy another way, too, it turns out.

Door-to-door steak-selling Guy: Buy my stuff!

Me: Oh, so sorry…I just put a sheep skeleton in the freezers. No room!

Guy: *backs away…*

Hee hee hee hee.

Belle: she really did forget!

So, after this dogventure filled day, I was looking forward to a good night’s sleep.

Belle: oh.  she didn’t forget.

Dart often wakes up during the night–half the time he’s fretting, the other half of the time he really has to go.  So the first wake-up call is always treated as valid, and I generally handle this without lights, without glasses…if I can help myself, without opening my eyes.

Belle: maybe it is all dart’s fault.

Belle is the only one of the dogs who isn’t crated at night–she’s a bedroom dog.  (Connery’s crate bedding routine helps to control his allergies; Dart’s crate helps to control…Dart.)  Last night that bedroom door was open, due to the heat and need for circulation, but she’s a very good girl, so…no big deal.

Belle: it happens to everyone now and then!

Me, toddling out to the kitchen to pull Dart from his crate and put him out through the mud room…in the dark…without glasses…: *SQUISH*

Me, a little more awake now: That can’t be right.

Let’s just say I turned on the light.

Pets.  Never a dull moment, eh?

It is ME.

CONNERYBEAGLE.

And I have CAT HAIR.

BAWHSOME!

I have had cat hair for days before this, but mymom said, “Computer, aurgh!” and then “Computer, AURGH!” and then “COMPUTER AURGH!!!!”

And I did not get to write this post.

Now she is just making funny strangled sounds, but sometimes she says, “Computer, HA HA HA I WIN!”  And she is saying that more often, and I think maybe things will be okay SOON.

Or maybe she will have to start ALL OVER AGAIN.

But the important thing is that I have CAT HAIR.

I have some hair from!

Fish, Fred, and Trilla Barber!

Sam I Am Vause!

Malachi and Gennie (Muff-Tuff) Farrell!

It was very nice of them to SHARE THEIR HAIRS.

Now I can do some LEARNING and maybe help other kitties.

Choices, choices…

Work on Wolf Justice ebook production…

Work on Kodiak Chained first draft in the home stretch…

Work on fun blog with silly pictures of silly Dart.

Theoretically, all of these things would have happened today.  In actuality, Connery and I spent this time unscrambling logistics for and rolling out on a cat elimination search.  (This would be a search in an area so extensive and difficult that the best goal is to discover where the cat isn’t so live traps can be set in optimal places.)

He did, in fact, also locate several very promising areas, including one deeply hidden cat we couldn’t even get a flashlight on (so may or may not be the cat wanted), and I hope the owner is able to set traps accordingly.

But the Dart pictures will have to wait until the next time, because I has a deadline…or two…

I think maybe I need to get Connery an SAR orange harness for these days.

At the end of last week, ConneryBeagle (CH MACH2 Cedar Ridge DoubleOSeven CD RE XF EAC EJC CGC) turned eight.

ConneryBeagle: Yes I DID!

This isn’t something I was sure would happen a year or so ago.  In fact, last year at this time, I was just launching the Heart of Dog anthology in an attempt to fund the very necessary tests that might help us determine why he was in such pain and distress–headaches and infections and ongoing spasms of his upper airway.  He was no longer able to track, and he was losing interest in playing, agility, and…well…just being a dog.  He spent most of his time curled up in a miserable ball.

ConneryBeagle: I’m going to pretend I do NOT REMEMBER.

Well, the book splashed out into a sea of digital releases and has done modestly, which means that the kindness of friends–and some strangers–have made a big difference to us.  In August, Connery finally had the CT scan–just shy of a year since his mysterious symptoms started.  (Here’s more detail about his history and his recent journey.)

At that point he was declared to have an idiopathic problem and the Connery Fund bought an inhaler and the little air mask he needs to use it.  The inhaler contains steroids, which weren’t supposed to go systemic, but promptly did.

ConneryBeagle: Because I am SPECIAL.

Very true, but let’s just call this bad luck.

It took a week to realize the intensity of those side effects, and then another week to get the dose down far enough to reduce the effects.  But it was long enough to reduce his muscling to practically nothing.  And in the following weeks–during which the meds did their job and Connery felt well for the first time in a long time–he romped hard, without having the muscular support he was accustomed to, and…he wrenched his stifles (his doggy knees).

So off we went to another specialist, where (thanks to the Connery Fund) he had an ultrasound (revealing that he had an old, lesser injury he’d never told me about), and prolotherapy, and went on severe activity restrictions and two hours of rehab a day–for six months.  That was mid-December; we’re looking at June as a Freedom Date.

ConneryBeagle: BAWHSOME!  Freedom!

In the interim, we’ve discovered that there’s no dose of inhaler that controls his symptoms without overwhelming his body; I do my best to walk a very fine line.  We’ve learned that he needs pulsed antiobiotics to stave off the infection–every other week.  That, too, will likely have its cost.  He’s on Atopica for his ongoing autoimmune issues–and yes, that too will one day exact a toll.  There are times I look at him and know what it’s taking to keep him feeling well and know that there’s a limit to what we’ll be able to do and how long we’ll be able to do it.

BUT.  Connery has been able to track again, for the last month.  He’s been able to go biking for the past six weeks, weather allowing.  He’s started a careful jumping program for agility.  He’s strong and happy, and when he sleeps he no longer curls into a tight ball…he sprawls.  A happy sprawl!

So, it gets better.  Because Connery isn’t a natural tracking dog.  He had to learn how to do that.  No, he’s a natural at trailing and searching, which is done differently–and he understands that task very well thanks to the tracking work combined with some of our games.

So Friday, when I heard that a friend’s cat had been attacked and badly injured by a large dog earlier in the week and that she was looking for a scent dog to help her search the neighborhood–she was in despair that the cat was mortally injured or perhaps already dead–we headed out.  We ended up in a warren of an old adobe neighborhood–nooks and crannies and high adobe walls, impassible except by humans who were willing to scale said walls and pass the dog back and forth.  We had clumps of cat fur and the cat bed for scenting and reinforcement, and we crawled through a series of yards (those neighbors had been sympathetic, but didn’t happen to be home), and ended up in an area of congealed items (let’s call it open-air storage), where Connery said:

ConneryBeagle: The cat is HERE.

And he was right.

The humans weren’t as good as ConneryBeagle at what they were doing, so…the cat has not yet been contained.  The cat, in fact, was in no mood to truck with humans at all, never mind one gently investigative Beagle, so the cat departed from his impossible little hidey hole with some speed.  But he also obviously wasn’t mortally wounded, so we were all ecstatic anyway, and all the right things are being done to make sure that Mr. Kitty gets home.

ConneryBeagle: And I got COOKIES.

The circumstances were right for success in some ways, and terribly difficult in others (see above, high adobe walls).  But I look at Connery, and I think of how glad I am to have him, and how grateful I am for the help we’ve gotten over this past year, and I’m wondering if there might not come other circumstances that are right for other cats.

Just thinking…

And meanwhile, HAPPY EIGHT YEARS OLD, CONNERYBEAGLE!

ConneryBeagle: BAWH!

997…

Oh, but first, let’s go to Dart Beagle.

Because Dart Beagle has a nose. What’s more, he likes to use it.

Dart’s just starting with active tracking training. He’s got an idea (in the abstract), of article indication.  Now it’s time to explore the concept of following a track to find COOKIES along the way.

Or, in Dart’s case, grab the concept with vigor, shake it like a rat, and toss it aside to acquire the COOKIES.

(996…)

Dart, it turns out, likes to track.

Dart might possibly be eager to follow the track

Dart still needs help recognizing the article as the same thing from article training, but he's getting there!

He still has many conceptual leaps to make (on Saturday he learned that tracking involves more than one tracker/scent, and that his task is the same regardless), but for now, we’re immersed in the glee of his initial response to the whole exercise.

Because DART LIKES TO TRACK!!

(995…)

Ahem.

Connery is still at work, too–learning new surfaces, new article types, and how to deal with aging scents.  Over the weekend, he ran a wonderful track with a plethora of articles and a nice age to it.  He’s working shortish sections to keep his motivation high and avoid, as much as possible, triggering his headsplosions.  That’s going to happen regardless–wherever he is, whatever he’s doing–but I hope to avoid associating them with tracking if possible.

Gearing up. One of us is already READY!

Connery at work. See that jaunty movement in his hocks? That's part of his "tell" that he's on scent.

He’s been to see the autoimmune specialist (Auntie Specialist Vet!)–who, all things considered, he adored and so did we.  He passed that inspection with flying colors, and no obvious suspect for the cause of the (wheezing/snorking/sneezing) headsplosions, or for his pain.  We’re now headed for Auntie Special Specialist Vet #2, an internist, with whom we’ll target…well, internal causes.

(994…)

The tests to determine same are far beyond available funds, of course.  It’s thanks to readers and friends that we’ve gotten this far.

(If you ever doubted the effect of the economical and technological changes on the publishing industry…well…don’t!)

So here’s this week’s tally:
DART BEAGLE: WIN! And so cute!
ConneryBeagle: WIN! Such a good boy!
Auntie Specialist One: WIN!
Me: Still asking for help for Connery. Not even beating around the bush.  If you have a moment…

(993…)

Spreading the word about THE HEART OF DOG, our fundraising project, is easy:

~~Click the Tell a Friend button down there

~~ Go to B&N and click LIKE to express an interest in the book.

~~ Go to Amazon and click their LIKE button.

~~There’s no need to be on FaceBook or to have read the book to help TAG IT on Amazon–just follow the link and scroll down to the tags.  They’re all factual, and just make it easier for people to see the book so they can decide if it might be of interest.

~~Review it if you’ve read it.  Anywhere that suits you!

~~Ponder where fundraising above and beyond might serve well; Second Chance in Flagstaff is the first on the list…

~~The book itself is $3.99, and doesn’t require an e-reader; there are PDF versions, and the really nice EPUB version can be read with free Adobe Digital Editions.  It has 16 short stories, plenty of humor, plenty of thoughtful  satisfaction, and a enough sentiment to make you smile–and it comes courtesy of award-winning authors who donated the bulk of the stories for Connery’s sake:  Jeffrey Carver, Julie Czerneda, Tanya Huff, John Mierau, Fiona Patton, Jennifer Roberson, Kristine Kathryn Rusch, &  John Zakour.

The goal?  A thousand copies so we can take the next step.  And then it’s all for WIN and WIN for all!

(The bonus piccies…)

One of the reasons I love tracking

Sucks to be us. Not. (Beagle in the grass!)

…Monday

Because, you know…everyone loses their brains now and then. Even earnest little dogs.

Once upon a time, the dogs were widely cross-training as a matter of course. But then I moved, and my energy and attention was severely, shall we say, challenged. So we focused on agility, which is our foundation joy.

And then in the latter part of last year, I introduced tracking to ConneryBeagle.

Mind you, what I know about tracking is basically…well…

Nothing.

But to my mind, training is about understanding the animal, understanding the goals, and breaking things down into manageable bits that conveys the latter to the former. So 95% of my work has always been a “well, let’s see what we can do!” kind of thing.

So I bought some books, read some articles, and started training. Picked a few brains…started asking around for local folks who are active in the sport–because tracking, it turns out, just isn’t a sport one can truly pursue to title without some group involvement.

ConneryBeagle thinks tracking is way cool, by the way. It puts his brain in a neat space, and makes him content with himself. (It also makes him really thirsty.) So we worked our little tracks up into zigzags and moderate distance…and then I got distracted with new house construction an hour from the old, and then we prepared to move AGAIN, and then I also gave up, for the nonce, on getting in with a tracking group.

In other words, Connery didn’t track for a good 8 months.

Until two weeks ago! That’s when we made contact with the right people, and found the opportunity to move forward with the training. That’s when we started a big agility trial gap for the summer. That’s when I started laying some refresher tracks here around home.

And that’s when ConneryBeagle proved that he had lost none of the skills, but had completely lost track of intent. (Oh, punny me!) From moments of brilliance in tracking, he switched to aimless wandering.

It took me a while to catch on. It doesn’t, as some might think, have anything to do with “he’s just not doing it” or “he’s being bad” or even, “he’s failing.” To be frank, I’ve never found that to be the answer to any of my training challenges. Especially not with a dog as inherently honest as a Beagle.

No, with dogs, there’s generally a reason, even if we don’t understand it. That’s OUR challenge, as trainers–to react on that basis. Not to blame the dog. Not even when he’s abandoning a track he’s just brilliantly navigated to that point.

For Connery? This time, he’s mixed tracking behavior with article indication behavior.

When we practice with articles, he’s in “find” mode, which involves quartering the yard, air-scenting, and sitting beside the article. He loves this game! He’s good at it, too–and we’ve been playing it, on and off, all along.

So when we started back into tracking work again after all this time, all his reinforcement was on “find” mode. When he ran into a puzzling moment in tracking, he simply switched gears. How clever is THAT?

So Connery and I are doing a tracking reboot, and he’s enjoying this very much. It means BEAGLE SUCCESS! BEAGLE COOKIES! BEAGLE SONG OF SELF!

Who knows. By the time we join up with the new group on Saturday, maybe we won’t…completely…embarrass ourselves. But hey, maybe we will! That’s okay. Bring it on!

A really fun Connery pic--he's braced and collected behind to control the teeter tip, while at the same time striking out boldy in front. It's like catching a dressage horse in both levade and extension! (photo by Bruce McClelland)