The Dingo Chronicles

We traveled to our old stomping grounds for Memorial Day weekend - Hailey, ID. With mountain bikes and dogs in tow, we made the journey south to Idaho. I'd just gotten home from Nashville on Thursday night and we were on the road Friday afternoon. It was a beautiful drive...everything is so green this time of year and even the most desolate Challis, ID is appealing to the eye.

We had a great weekend with family and got in two awesome mountain bike rides - one muddy and rainy and one the perfect blend of sun and clouds with a spring shower that hit after we finished up. Wally tackled his longest trek ever on Sunday, with a jaunt of about 14 miles as we biked Haddy's Gulch. He did so well and had his buddy Chutney - a German wire-haired pointer - to try to keep up with, which meant...a quiet household Sunday evening! We had to leave Hunter behind, knowing that the sun and distance would have wiped him out after only a couple of miles. We left him with a rawhide chew, a cozy bed, and no Wally...pure bliss for Mister Hunter. It was hard to leave him, but the fact that it was for the best made it a little easier.

So you're probably asking...why the title? Well, as you know, on a regular basis we seem to have something random and completely inexplicable happen with Wally and Hunter (thus, the blog). And when we're traveling, the probability of those "huh?" moments seems to increase exponentially to the amount of miles we voyage away from home. This recent trip to Hailey didn't disappoint. We have a real doozy for you this time around. And instead of "huh?", this one left me exclaiming "oh s@#*!!!!".

Allow me to set the scene for you. Saturday night we were invited over to some family friends' house for dinner. These friends are experienced Europe travelers and we wanted to take advantage of our time in Hailey to pick their brains for tips and tricks that we could put towards our trip to Europe this fall. We were invited to also bring the dogs as entertainment for their little boy. Although we questioned the sanity of this offer, we ventured over to their house with Hunter, Wally, and Chutney packed into the car with us. Upon arrival, Hunter and Chutney were invited into the house as though they were part of the group. However, common dinner guest courtesies like asking to go upstairs before doing so and wiping your feet before entering were readily dismissed. Wally...well...Wally went straight to the back yard. He hasn't quite earned our trust in his ability to display decent manners, so we avoided any run-ins. Hunter and Chutney milled around for a few, but even they became too much to have inside, so we kicked them out into the great outdoors with Wally.

As dinner concluded, the little boy came up to me and Ty and asked if we'd go outside with him to throw the ball for the dogs. "Great idea!", I told him and figured that any kind of movement would do wonders for my body's ability to digest the mass quantities of food I'd just consumed. So Ty and I headed outside with the little guy, who gathered three tennis balls into his arms on the way out the door...one for each dog. We played around with the dogs for about 10 minutes and Ty headed inside. I was having fun, so I stuck it out for a bit longer. Eventually the dogs got tired and we made the decision to go inside. In an attempt for one last hoorah, the little boy was bouncing a tennis ball on the back patio, shooting the ball high into the air for Hunter to catch. First bounce didn't produce a successful catch for Hunter, so we decided to try one more. Keep in mind that during all this Wally is trying to find any way possible to get in on the action, so he's hovering pretty close to Hunter. The boy raises his arm for one last bounce of the ball, he drops his arm with a snap, sending the ball to the patio and popping back into the air upon contact with the concrete. Hunter leaps for the ball and it's looking good (I'm thinking..."yes! Hunter will make the catch and we can go inside!"). But wait...where'd Wally come from. Our "I'm still a klutzy, clumsy, not-so-coordinated" puppy makes his appearance right in front of Hunter's face...they leap at the exact same time...and their mouths go for the ball at the EXACT. SAME. TIME.

SCHMACKKKK!!!! Their jaws collide and the most horrific teeth-knocking noise presents itself to my ears. Immediately me and the little boy panic (this is where my expletives came in, which I apologized profusely for to his mom after the fact). As Wally and Hunter come down from the collision...almost as in slow motion...I see something white soar through the air and onto the patio. Oh crap (again...this wasn't my word of choice at the time), I think, one of them chipped a tooth. As I creep closer to pick up this bit of tooth from one of my dogs' mouth, my shock and awe is maxed out. Not a piece of tooth...a WHOLE FRICKIN' TOOTH!!! I rush from dog to dog, checking mouths for sign of (or lack of) tooth damage. And then I see it...Wally has a gaping hole in the front left side of his mouth.

The way he looked at me after my realization that he was the victim broke my heart. Not because he looked sad or in pain. It was the exact opposite...he gave me his goofy, happy, "what next, Ma?" look and was ready to roll. I couldn't believe it. How resilient can these dogs be? Hunter came away without damage. And luckily, the tooth that came out wasn't Wally's canine. Here's a picture of the aftermath...



So now you understand the title a little better. As we readied to leave the house from dinner, the little boy said to me..."make sure the Tooth Fairy gets that." We chuckled together (hey...I bonded with this kid...trauma can bring you close) and agreed that bones would be in order vs. the traditional monetary exchange for such calcified treasure. For now, the tooth is still in our possession. I think we'll hang onto it as proof of just how bizarre life can be sometimes.

There is one creature residing in our humble abode that never gets any face time and has only been mentioned by name up until today. We know him as "Big R", "The Cougar", "Ki-ten", "The Nator" (short for Rosco-nator), and a myriad of four-letter names that come out when he's clawing the couch, picking on Hunter, or stinking up the utility room with what seems like his fourth or fifth "dook" of the day.

Amidst all the tragedy he's brought to our house (did I mention the couch scratching?), we love him...or at least I love him. He was a shelter rescue and a seemingly mellow, loving cat when we picked him out to become part of our family. He even fell asleep in my arms his first night home. Unbeknown to us, that first night home was a result of him being quite sick...a feline upper respiratory infection. Once the vet got a few "feel good" drugs pumped into him, he turned into a completely different cat. Translation...a cat we probably wouldn't have brought home with us. He rarely snuggled, had regular fits of wildness, and ate EVERYTHING in sight...literally. See...he was a stray and was used to eating when he had the chance. To this day, he never assumes his next meal is a done deal, so he snarfs up whatever he can in the interim. The first few days we had him, he ate a tater tot that fell on the floor. Awww...how cute, you say. But no...it's not all that adorable. Especially when you catch him ripping into the plastic covering your Papa Murphy's pizza and attacking raw pizza dough and delectable toppings. Or...knocking over the Cheetos bag to devour the tastiest of fake cheese products.

There have been times I've questioned his place in this house and whether or not it was time for him to find a new home (this was probably soon after he latched onto my arm in a death grip/piranha chomp action when I'd been holding and petting him for a mere .25 seconds). However, we've stuck it out and he's turning out to be a really great cat.

As with all of our animals, we can't concentrate on the negative (ahem...couch scratching), but must focus on all the good they bring to our home and daily lives. We'd wander aimless without them. The love we indulge them with would be wasted - evaporating into the air around us without ever reaching the priceless recipients we call our pets.

And in all honesty, we'd be down-right bored without moments like these to look forward to...

I really don't think there's any way I can cover every aspect and detail of the insanity that has engulfed our "family" since the last post (really? February 25 was the last post?). Where did that time go? Well...let's see if I can give you a brief recap. I traveled to Hailey, Boise, and Chicago for work. Ty played in three hockey tournaments. We road-tripped to Seattle/Whidbey Island, where we visited my brother and his girlfriend. I ran a marathon on Whidbey Island (so cool!). And...to culminate this wild adventure, I was race director for the Great Northern 5K that took place May 10, so I was busy planning/coordinating for that. I travel one more time this spring on May 19 to Nashville, but it's a conference I'm attending ONLY, so in no way, shape or form am I in charge of any part of it. I get to sit back, relax, soak up some knowledge in my brain and great food and drink in my tummy.

Hunter and Wally are doing great. They had to go 10 whole days without me and in all honesty I had to fight my way back into their routine. Ty had them pretty well established in a schedule of going to work with him in the morning, a couple of breaks from the car for chuck-it runs/smells sniffing, and a walk or run in the evening when they all got home. The first Monday back working from home, they seemed so bored with me...why wasn't I ENTERTAINING them. They're now settled back into the routine - a morning run, all day napping, and maybe an extra outting in the evening. And for me? I think I'm finally there...but only in time to leave again! :) It's fun, though, so I can't complain.

We've had lots and lots and lots of rain the past few days and the weather is looking to warm up and be sunny in time for the weekend. In the mean time, the dogs end up caked in a water/dirt/dust film each time they go outside. We'll keep our fingers crossed for improved conditions in the next few days!

It's good to be back on the blogging scene. Stay tuned for more postings on the antics, comedy, and unbelievable happenings that make up our lives with Wally and Hunter. Until next time, a parting shot...

Can you believe how tiny this little bugar was? And note Hunter's pure annoyance, conveyed through his body language. In his world, this is the beginning of the end.

Ty and I took a little road trip this weekend to "get away from it all" with friends at a condo on Lake Couer d' Alene. Two other couples, lots of great food, and plenty to drink made for a fabulous time of doing nothing but relaxing, playing games, catching up, and of course...eating :). We're all in a fortunate time in our lives where finding care for children isn't an issue for such excursions, but we each have dogs to find lodging for. We boarded Hunter and Wally at a local doggy "camp" we've gone to several times and can rest assured the pups are well taken care of - lots of room to roam and other dogs to play with.

Ty and I always take pride in raising and owning well-behaved dogs. Aside from not always listening when we want him to, Hunter is exceptionally well-mannered. Wally...well...Wally's getting there. And in all honesty, his performance is well beyond what came out of Hunter by this age. Thus, Ty and I remain hopeful that he's going to prove to be just as amazing as Hunter. He sits, lays down, stays, comes when called, gets out of the kitchen when told and even drops the most delectable (to him) items from his mouth when asked (this is something Hunter STILL doesn't do). Needless to say, he's going to be a great dog.

By me saying "Wally's getting there" is not intended to elude to any bad behavior...at least we didn't think so until returning home from our trip and retrieving our beloved dingos. Ty and I will be the first to agree that Wally is a high energy (and we mean HIGH energy) puppy that still has some things to work on. Examples: tugging on Hunter's neck when Hunter is sick of it, barking at anything that walks, shuffles, or blows past the house, chasing Rosco endlessly, etc., etc. Oh yeah...and jumping up on house guests as they walk through the door. This one, especially, we're aware of and working with him on. He just gets so darn excited to have someone new over. The nice thing is that when the initial "hi, my name is Wally" introduction is over, he settles down.

Well, apparently the jumping behavior was cause for alarm to the owner of the dog camp (notice I'm refraining from business names and gender association to protect the involved party I'm about to get a little huffy towards in this here blog). After we had transacted payment/ paperwork/dog food/dog beds/dogs, the owner handed me a business card and said "Don't take offense to this, but...".
-----Time-out
Okay....starting a sentence with "don't take offense to this" immediately puts me and probably most people on the defensive. Especially when it comes to their dogs. This time was no different.
-----Time-in
"but...Wally could really use this." Within an instant I offered nothing but a blank stare...pause, two, three...but quickly snapped back to the situation and the card in hand. Immediately, my eyes jumped to "Behavior Modification" listed as a service on this mini-promo of a card. I calmly tried to reply with "Oh really, why?" and the owner was quick to respond with "He's really bad about jumping up and he just has so much energy. I didn't even have any dogs to pair him with for play time because he just had so much energy." The owner carried on and on, describing Wally's super-hyper-antics over the weekend and noted an instance when Wally came up behind her and jumped up, putting two paws into her back..."Oh...I can't breathe," was how the owner re-enacted her response to the incident. Meanwhile...I'm trying to keep my cool. We like being able to take our dogs here, so I refrain from hinting at any sign of irritation. We left with not much more than an "okay...well...thank you...and sorry..."

Pulling away from doggy camp, smiling on the outside was all I could do in hopes of muffling the seething, on-the-verge, rage I was close to bursting into. If I were born without a conscience (darn you Jiminy Cricket), this is what I would have said in response to the "Wally could use this" comment:

1. He's a puppy.
2. He's a dog.
3. You own a business for and about dogs - they're not humans and you sure as heck can't bank on 'em extending their paw for a handshake as a greeting every time you come into their presence.
4. He's a puppy.
5. Hunter is AMAZING. Maybe if we brought you a poorly behaved older dog that demonstrated our inability to raise a well-behaved dingo, THEN you could be suggesting "behavior modification." Why don't we wait and see how things shake out, eh? Maybe? Before we start making suggestions?
6. Cheer up...he didn't bite you, did he?
7. We're aware of the issue and working on it. Hmm...maybe that's how this conversation should have started..."Boy...Wally sure does jump up when he gets excited!" And our response would have been "Yeah...we know...we're working on it with him. It's taking a little longer for him to get the hint, but we'll get there." Instead of instantly pointing us to the crazy dog psychologist.
8. It's in his breed. You're a dog person, you should understand that. Here's a great description I found to explain this type of behavior that comes from Wally's pointer side: Bounciness. Young English Pointers (up to about two years old) romp and jump with great vigor, and things can go flying, including people. Hmm...Wally's young...he's part pointer...things are starting to add up here.
9. He's a dog.
10. He's a puppy.

I'm not trying to make excuses for Wally's jumping up, but I think the doggy camp owner could have given us a little more understanding before leaping to conclusions. I'll admit, my pride was a little wounded, but I'll get over it now that I've rambled on about it for some time.

I think what really set Ty and me off is that right before we left (and after the incident) the owner told us "He looks like he has some setter in him".

Hmmm...okay.... I'm not seeing the resemblance, but maybe you'll make note of something I'm apparently missing. I'll let you be the judge:

At 4:50 Wednesday morning, Ty and I awoke to that awful, all-too-familiar sound of wretching...dog wretching. The noise is unlike any other and can wake you from the deepest sleep. It's a horrid sound that comes across as a combo of burping, chest heaving, and choking. The victim (aside from Ty and me being woken by the incident)...Hunter. Not much of a surprise here, as Hunter is regularly regurgitating items in the middle of the night. When we wake enough to figure out what's going on, we usually attempt to move Hunter to a "safe" place to deposit his middle of the night gift to us. Safe is meant to imply somewhere NOT on our carpet. Often times it's either too late or he resists our nudging towards the linoleoum or easily washed dog bed. He has an inner voice telling him that carpet must be a better landing spot for the item he's about to puke up. So...we typically have no choice but to wait...wait and see what Hunter's throwing up for us this time. Over the years it's been a myriad of things including, but not limited to:

• the red plastic bits from half of a chuck-it he munched down for an afternoon snack (see photo below if you aren't familiar with a chuck-it)
  

• a baby rattlesnake he'd sniffed out and gobbled down on a walk (the snake was dead prior to consumption).
• mass quantities of crunched up sticks eaten upon return from numerous camping trips (for some reason he always sets a personal goal for himself to consume every fallen stick on the forest floor).
• and oh yeah...cat poop.
  

The most recent event was equally as puzzling as many of his past consumptions. At first we didn't see anything come out...just stomach bile (a glorious smell at the pre-dawn hour). But then...when we started to clean up the goopy stuff, hidden against the brown of Hunter's dog bed was a pine cone. A lone, in-tact, soggy, stinky, PINE CONE (please reference exhibit A).

1. Danni turned to run home from our house and Sonja passionately resisted the pull on her leash, taking her away from...gasp...Wally.
2. After a run concluding in our drive-way, Wally refused to return to the inside of his very own home with heels dug in. He wiggled away from my grasp and returned to Sonja - panickly bouncing around her, as though he was saying "don't go, don't go, don't go."
3. Wally watched Sonja leaving down our street from the front window. He even craned his neck to get one last glimpse as she trotted out of sight.
4. Wally and Sonja kissed. Running side-by-side, on numerous of our runs, they both paused, looked at each other, and leaned in. They even took the time to make sure their tongues touched (sorry if this is grossing any of you out...but it really, truly happened!!!).
5. Sonja has memorized the running route from her house to ours. Every time Danni leaves her house to run, regardless of whether or not they plan to run to our house, Sonja turns right and attempts to convince Danni they MUST charge on to Wally's house.

I think you get the idea. It's pretty funny to watch them interact. Today's playdate was no different. They ran, played, chased, ran, and played some more in the back yard for close to three hours. And what happened when the beagle next door happened to catch Sonja's attention? Wally put on his best show...grabbed a bone in his mouth, shook his head back and forth vigorously, and romped past her with quite a charge, saying "look here, Sonja...I'm way tougher than that dude!"

Here's to a quiet Friday night for Danni, Ted, Zeke, Ty, Leanne, and Hunter. Cheers!

If you've ever wondered what my life is like during the day - working from home with two dogs and a cat - here's a brief glimpse of what my "co-workers" are up to. And let me tell ya...not much. But oh, how I envy them...

A little snuggle time.


Fighting for a spot in the sun.