Life with a "Rescued" and Rehabilitated Dog

Trey is my most recent addition to my family.  It has been a year since he moved in with me, and what an amazing year of progress for him it has been!  As a dog lover and trainer, he has tested my knowledge, abilities and trust as he adjusted to his new life and learned how to live in a home for the first time in his 8 years of life.

Trey is husky mix who was rescued from a neglected sled dog operation in Quebec.  Nearly 100 huskies in total were seized by the International Humane Society.  They had been tied up in the forest and very neglected - given very little food and water and only a box for shelter.  After being vetted, vaccinated, and neutered/spayed, they were distributed to various dog rescue groups to be rehabilitated and found homes.  While they were seizing the dogs a video was taken and Trey is actually shown in the video.  While it broke my heart to see him so dirty and distressed, I'm also grateful to see his actual situation.  It makes his recovery all that more amazing.  This is the link to the article and video and Trey is the white dog about 31 seconds in:  http://www.humanesociety.org/news/press_releases/2009/11/quebec_dog_rescue_111709.html

I met Trey when he came to Dogs at Camp as a Foster Dog with BARK, one of the rescues for whom we foster dogs.  He came with Indy, another husky who was about 1-2 years old.  Trey was about 8 years old, anxious, weary, and very untrusting when he first came to us.  His teeth were in terrible shape, he was dirty and smelly but most of all he seemed sad.  I still remember the first night he and Indy were at camp - they howled and barked and cried for hours.  You would have thought they were in extreme pain from the sounds they were making.  I felt so bad for them as I listened to them from home.  Over time they grew to love camp, settled right in and made friends and Trey slowly learned how to be a dog.  Watching him learn about feeding time, how to get attention and play with other dogs was very rewarding.  But the moment we took him through the doors of the play area in the barn, even into the front office area, he would have a meltdown.  Once out of his comfort zone he just couldn't cope - he would spin in circles, try to get away off the leash and crouch down while walking like the surface was unstable.  It was so sad to see.

These were not your typical dogs up for adoption.  They both required a patient owner who would deal with their anxiety and lack of training.  Indy coped much better than Trey.  After a few months of not getting any interest in adopting them, I took it upon myself to start bringing them into my home occasionally to get them used to that environment and see how they would cope, and to do some training with them.  I was hoping that it would make them more adoptable.  Indy adjusted well and quickly.  Trey did not.  Poor Trey.  I still remember the first nights he spent in my home.

It was a challenge to even get Trey into the house.  He balked at entering my doorway, and once inside, paced for hours.  He would pace back and forth from my back door to my patio door literally for hours.  I remember one night he paced for about 6 hours straight before finally lying down.  And in my backyard he would do the same thing - just run back and forth along the fence and would not voluntarily come into the house.  He would hide in the tall grass out along my fence line.  I always had to go outside and put him on a leash to come back in.  He easily let me leash him up - he wasn't afraid of me and would always lie down when he saw me coming.  He just had no idea about how to live in a house.  The first few nights he slept over I had to sleep on the couch with him.  I tried crating him and that didn't work at all - he spent hours digging at the crate and prying the bars apart before I decided that it wasn't going to work and I let him out.  He wouldn't come upstairs to my bedroom - he had never climbed stairs in his life - so I slept on the couch and he finally settled on the floor.  That happened 2-3 nights before I realized that he wasn't going to destroy anything and I trusted him to sleep downstairs alone.  He has never ever destroyed anything in the house which is quite surprising given that he would have never had training about appropriate things to chew and play with.  Once trusted out of the crate, he slept fine in the living room and would happily greet me every morning.

Over the course of several weeks I would bring both Trey and Indy into the house to allow them to adjust to home living.  It was becoming increasingly clear that Trey was taking longer to adjust than Indy and I started to think he couldn't cope living in a city.  He could barely cope in my house and backyard on a farm where there are very few loud noises, much less the hustle and bustle of city living.  It may seem selfish, but I thought that the only place I could see him thriving was with me.  I could slowly allow him to adjust from camp to my house, mainly living at camp where he was comfortable while regularly bringing him into my home to get him more and more comfortable there.  I was not looking for a 3rd dog at this point, but he had quickly grown on me and I saw myself as his only option at a home life.  Likely not true, but that is what I told myself!  So I began to do more and more work with him - taking him on walks around the farm and introducing him to living in a house.  He continued to pace and I had to continue retrieving him from my backyard to bring him inside.  It was weeks of this before he started to relax at my house.  And how did I know when he was stressed?  He had gas!  Bad gas!  That was always his telltale sign of anxiety - he farted.  I remember the first time I tried to take him upstairs in my house - I mostly pulled him up the stairs on a leash and once up there it smelled so back I quickly let him go back down.  I never forced that on him again!

In May of 2010 I officially decided to adopt Trey.  He had 3 teeth that needed to be pulled - they were so bad that I knew it had to be painful for him to chew.  I had that done quickly and I swear that when I picked him up from the vet he looked at me and his eyes said "thank you" and he became a different dog.  I can only imagine the headaches he used to have.  His whole demenour seemed to change after having those teeth pulled - he truly seemed to know what I did for him and was so much happier.  The change in him was very distinct.  I knew then that I had made the right decision and together we would work at giving him a happy life and I would give him as much time as he needed to adjust to living in my home.

I was worried about a few things when I decided to adopt him.  He has some food guarding issues at camp and so I wasn't sure how he would be at feeding time with Abby and Jackson in my house.  I also wasn't sure how he would be with my cats, Oscar and Felix (I had shipped them off to my parent's place when I was training Trey and Indy in my house so that they would be safe).  Or how he would be with toys and bones with my other dogs.  I had a very cohesive family with no guarding issues and I didn't want to have to deal with any, nor put my cats through any more anxiety from a new dog.  In all of these regards, there were no issues.  He easily ate next to my dogs and never once tried to take their food or guard his own.  And when he met the cats for the first time he was curious, but not aggressive in any way.  Jackpot!  All of my worries about these things were gone and I knew that with regards to integrating him into my furry family I would have no problems.

In the meantime, my uncle met Indy and decided to adopt him.  Barry has had huskies for as long as I can remember and he lives in the woods outside of Thunder Bay with his other 2 huskies.  I couldn't imagine a better home for him.  Once Indy left camp with Barry in June 2010, I still only had Trey in the house part-time.  But the night that Indy left and Trey was in the barn he was not happy - he sounded like the first night he spent at camp - crying, howling and carrying on.  This was a milestone for me because it showed that he wanted to be in the house.  He no longer wanted to sleep at camp, as anxious as he still appeared to be in the house.  So I decided to go cold turkey and move him into the house permanently the next day and he has never spent another night in the barn since.

The last year with Trey has been truly amazing.  Watching his progress from an extremely anxious dog to a comfortable loving pet has been a blessing.  I remember the first time he voluntarily came into my house from both the backyard and the front; the first time he climbed up and lay down in my chair; the first time I gave him a bone and he buried it in about 5 different places in my backyard; the first time he went in the car without having a meltdown; the first time he sniffed Oscar all over and then lay down beside him; the first time he voluntarily came upstairs on his own; the first time he slept in my bed; the first thunderstorm at 3am where he curled up next to me and shook until it was over; the first time I dropped his leash and let him run free down at the river; the first time I let him run in an off leash park; the first time he lay on a dog bed; and the first time he responded to a command to lie down before getting his meals.  All of these things were milestones for him and not easily achieved.  It was through patience, training, love, and attention that I gained his trust.  And food - I can't discount the power of food!

It has been a truly amazing year of watching him become a confident, trusting and loving dog.  I continue to see improvements in his decision making abilities and confidence. Every day he makes me smile and laugh from doing his head-shaking-paw-stomping-dance demanding his meals, to lying with me on the couch, to following Jackson everywhere (Jackson is his hero).  I can't imagine my life without him.  He has made me a better dog owner, trainer and caregiver.  Rescuing him has been one of the best experiences of my life as a dog professional and dog owner.  People always tell me what a lucky dog he is, which he is to have survived the situation he came from - but I am also the lucky one to have him a part of my life and really show me what love and trust are all about. And best of all... he rarely has gas anymore!  :)

This is Trey in his first days at camp as a foster dog.  He looks so sad.

After a couple of months at camp he was much happier - look at the smile on his face!

This was when I knew Jackson and Abby had accepted him into our family.  There was the smallest space between them on the couch and he decided that was enough space for him to join them.  So funny!  They stayed this way for quite awhile.

Enjoying a run on the frozen river this past winter.

Now that the nice weather has arrived he loves to sit outside and watch the birds, squirrels, cows, etc.  He will spend hours sitting at the fence.  I wish Jackson and Abby would do this.

After a bad night of thunderstorms, this is him recovering while I, completely exhausted from no sleep, had to work.

Going to the park!  His favourite place in the car is sitting in the back but between the front seats where he can see everything.

Great hole in Bruce Pitt!

He dug out a lot of this hole in Bruce Pitt too and then lay down to cool himself off.  I love the happy look on his face here.

This was a flower box in my backyard.  Now it is his personal bed.  Being a husky, he has dug out a lot of dirt and made a cool place for him to lie.  If he has been outside for awhile, this is usually where I will find him.

The boys hanging out on the couch.

Frog fishing down in the marsh on my property - one of his favourite pasttimes.

Morris Island was my new favourite dog park

I've lived here for over 2.5 years now and have found it a challenge to find a good park that is close by in which I can run my dogs off leash.  You would think that living on a 161 acre farm would give me a lot of space to tire them out but surprisingly that is not the case.  In the summer the crops are in which takes away a lot of space and it's just not possible to give them a good run.  Plus, it's boring every day to walk in the same place.  I love hiking with them but most parks near me insist that the dogs be on leash - so what is the point of that???  But I have now found Morris Island Park - 15 minutes from my house and the dogs are allowed to run off leash.  I didn't believe it at first but it's true!  Hardly anyone uses it so it is the perfect place for me to run the dogs - or so I thought!

This park is beautiful!  Nice trails through heavily treed forests with tons of water in which they can wade (my dogs don't swim) and cool off when necessary.  You can walk for a couple of hours and really give the dogs a good run.  But... along with a beautiful park in the country comes the wildlife.  And this has become my challenge.

Just over a week ago I took the 3 dogs with my friend Jennifer on a Friday evening to show her my new favourite place.  It was a beautiful evening and all was going well until Jackson and Trey picked up a scent and were going crazy trying to track down whatever wild animal had just walked through there.  And they did!  All of a sudden they took off up ahead and chased what we thought was a raccoon up a tree.  Trey was the first there and he and Jackson were jumping up the tree to try to get the raccoon.  Except it wasn't a raccoon - it was a porcupine and Trey had managed to get close enough to its tail end that he had a couple dozen quills in his mouth and around his muzzle.  Jennifer and I managed to get all of the ones outside of his mouth out.  Trey was quite good about it.  But we couldn't get the ones in his mouth so we had to leash him up and head home where I was able to pull them out with tweezers.  Thank goodness we didn't have to go to the vet!  One of my staff recently spent about $1000 on both of her dogs after porcupine incidents.  That was all I could think about and I was determined to get them out myself so I'm grateful that Trey cooperated!

Trey is a bit obsessive compulsive about frogs.  He will see one jump into water and will obsess in the swamp trying to find it.  He would spend hours frog hunting if I let him.  And he is great at dodging and weaving when I'm trying to grab him.  There are two times that he will ignore me and not allow me to get him - when he is on a scent and when he is frog hunting.  Frustrating!  So our next adventure into Morris Island included him finding the muddiest swamp you've ever seen and obsessing over hunting for frogs.  He would not come back to me when I called him and I had to make my way down to the edge of the swamp and chase him around it to try to catch him.  He is very good at staying just out of reach unless I literally want to walk into the mud myself to grab him.  And he just circles around the edge of the swamp, jumping farther in when he sees a frog, and covering his legs, belly and chest with very smelly mud.  So imagine him chest deep in mud walking around the pond looking for frogs and me having to jump over and around fallen trees and logs while trying to stay on solid footing and getting close enough to him to grab him - I was NOT happy!  This when on for quite a while until I was finally able to grab and hold onto his tail and get a leash on him. I did not see a bright future in this park - I saw a future of me chasing him around swamps.  I should mention that at this particular time Jackson and Abby managed to stay out of the mud.  But... not for long.  I, of course, let Trey off of his leash when I thought we were far enough away from this pond and immediately he ran back to it.  The game was back on but this time Abby and Jackson joined in.  3 muddy dogs.  One pissed off dog owner.  End of the walk that day.

But I decided to try the park again a couple of days later.  Third time there in a week and of course it was not incident free.  I'm really beginning to see the prey drive of the husky.  This time it was Jackson.  The last few times we've been there I've seen a nice little family of Canada geese swimming around - mommy and daddy and 3 goslings.  I don't worry too much about the dogs with the geese because they can always fly away or they are out in water and since my dogs don't swim, I never worry that they will get to them.  WRONG!  Part of the park includes a beautiful man-built walkway from one island to another one.  You can see it in one of the photos I've posted.  There is water on both sides and the goose family hangs out in this area.  This particular day they were swimming down the right hand side of the walkway and Jackson saw them and took off after them.  I wasn't worried at first because he doesn't swim so I figured he'd run down the bank to the water and bark at them.  WRONG again!  He ran down the bank, jumped into the water practically on top of them and continued to chase them down the stream since the water was shallow enough he could still touch bottom.  Surprisingly mommy and daddy goose didn't turn on him and attack him, protecting their babies.  That was my initial fear - he was about to get in a big fight with two big geese.  But they didn't!  Mommy and Daddy goose took off and flew straight downstream but the babies were too young to fly.  They all ended up under water and Jackson ran/swam down the middle of the stream chasing mommy and daddy goose.  I should mention here that about a year ago Jackson pulled a goose out of the mid-air and killed it so I knew that he he got to them he would definitely kill them. That is a story for another day - a good one!  But this time they managed so far to stay out of his reach.  He got himself to the other side of the stream and continued to run along the edge of the water barking at them and they kept squawking and flying towards a bigger body of water where he couldn't get them.  Once I saw that mommy and daddy were safe and they weren't going to attack him, I started to worry about the babies.  Of course this whole time I'm yelling at him to come back, he is barking and the geese are squawking so it was quite chaotic!  The babies had gotten split up - two were swimming towards mommy and daddy but one was obviously confused and off by himself swimming the wrong way.  So now I was worried that as Jackson came back he would see the two goslings by themselves and dive in to attack them.  When he finally gave up on mommy and daddy goose and was running back along the bank, my only thought was please don't see the babies - please just come back, run back across the shallow part of the stream and back to me!  And that is almost what happened.  He did not see the 2 babies but when coming back across the stream to my side he did see the lone baby and immediately jumped into the water to grab it.  Thank goodness the little gosling dove under water and swam away and Jackson was looking for it but in the wrong direction.  The little gosling managed to swim quite far under water and out of his eyesight.  Of course I'm still ridiculously yelling at him to come back when I know full well he is ignoring me and it was wasted effort but there was nothing else I could do.  Thankfully he did give up and came back to my side of the stream and I was able to leash him up.  But not before everyone was traumatized!  Again - one pissed off dog owner and the end of the walk.

Abby is my little angel.  Thankfully she does not have the prey drive that the boys do.  She just watches them do their thing and stays out of it.  So far.  I'm sure at some point I will have a story about her but for now it is just Jackson and Trey getting into trouble.  And I'm really hoping that trouble comes in 3's and the geese were the final incident for awhile.  Otherwise, I'm again going to be out of a park. And I really love this park.  Apparently, so do the dogs.

 

The walkway between islands

View from the walkway with high water - water was not this high when Jackson decided to chase the geese

Forested area of Morris Island Park

Chasing frogs in the disgusting swamp

Still chasing frogs in the disgusting swamp - you can see how he is out of reach!

Felix - my scaredy-cat!

In addition to my dogs, I have 2 cats - Oscar and Felix.  Both were rescued from the Toronto Humane Society and they were my first pets.  Oscar came first after I went to get a dog and my friend who was working at the THS at the time told me there was no way they'd give me a dog because my lifestyle wouldn't allow me to properly care for it.  Instead she gave me this tiny cute little grey kitten to foster until he was old enough to be adopted.  He was five weeks old at the time and I refused to name him because I knew once I did I would get attached.  But... within a couple of hours my friend, Jane, said "He looks like an Oscar" and it was over.  He was named, worked his way into my heart, and never went back to the THS.  And I have always called him my dog in cat clothing - he is the most amazing, confident cat who used to wait for me at my door when I got home from work.  He was a great first pet!

Felix was another story.  I couldn't stand him when I got him.  It was a year after having Oscar and the THS called me asking if I could foster a cat for them.  Since I firmly believe in fostering and helping rescued animals, I agreed.  They gave me Felix - about 5 weeks old at the time.  He was a tiny little tabby cat who cried all the time and generally annoyed me.  I couldn't wait to take him back to the THS!  But then he got sick and I had to nurse him back to health before they could take him back and put him up for adoption.  That was the beginning of our true relationship - while nursing him back to health he became less annoying and more loving and affectionate and I fell in love with him.  He never ended up going back to the THS and I now had a little buddy for Oscar.

Oscar and Felix have very different personalities.  They never really bonded too much - they would sleep together and occasionally run around my apartment together, but I wouldn't have said that they there best friends.  Oscar is definitely a more out-going cat and Felix has always been skittish.  They were 5 and 6 years old when I finally got my first dog - Abby.  Abby was 5 months old when I got her but because she went to dog daycare with me every day, she was always very calm at home - no crazy puppy energy for the cats to deal with.  Even so, Felix was tramatized.  He lived in my bathroom for the first 6 months that Abby was with us.  Ever since then, he literally became my bathroom cat - he found some comfort being in there and I think it was his safe haven because Abby never ever went in there.  And so when I went in there he always had me all to himself.  Poor Felix.  His life completely changed with the introduction of Abby into it but he did eventually get comfortable around her and began to wander around the apartment again once he realized she wouldn't bother him.

Then came Jackson.  Jackson was a different puppy than Abby.  He was full of energy and liked to chase the cats around.  Oscar quickly put a stop to that by standing his ground and giving him a couple of swats, but Felix never got used to it.  When he would see Jackson he would always run away, causing Jackson to give chase.  Jackson never got used to Felix because Felix never stood his ground and gave Jackson the opportunity to smell him and be used to his presence.  Poor Felix began to spend more time in the bathroom and in my basement in Toronto - quite a solitary life for him.  I always felt bad for him and tried to get him used to Jackson but it was a difficult challenge.

When I moved to Ottawa the cats got their own bedroom - a place to get away from the dogs where I could feed them and keep their litter.  Felix rarely ventured downstairs, especially during they day when the dogs were around.  Whenever he would try, Jackson would chase him back upstairs.  And when I brought Trey into the home, it was all too much for Felix.  I began to really see that his quality of life was limited.  He didn't have an abusive life, or a bad one, but it was definitely solitary.  Even Oscar didn't spend much time with him.  Felix would spend his days alone upstairs, sleeping in the bathroom or one of the bedrooms, and at night he would wander around the house.  He did usually sleep with me so that was our time, but it wasn't enough.  I began to question his existence in my life and my dog filled home and began to think about an alternative home for him.

Now, I am very judgmental about people giving up their pets.  I fully admit it.  I feel like when you get a pet you have committed to providing that pet with a good home for life, and doing everything possible to make sure they are loved and cared for.  So the thought of re-homing Felix was a difficult one for me and I had to re-examine all of my judgements about it.  I began to understand why people do it - some don't do it for the right reasons but some do it because they don't feel they can give the animal the proper care he deserves.  It is quite an un-selfish decision for some people to give their pet that they love to someone else to care for because it is better for the animal.  It took me awhile but I finally came to the decision that Felix may be happier living somewhere with no dogs.  He has spent quite a bit of time at my parent's place, and had become quite comfortable there.  He was always more relaxed there and when he had to come back home, he hissed a lot and seemed quite stressed to be in my house again.  And watching him when the dogs came around really made me realize how stressed he was - I could see it in his behaviours and his poor little face.  So I finally got up the courage to ask my mom if they could keep him for me and see how he did on his own at their place.  I didn't know how it would be splitting up him and Oscar, but didn't think either would really care since they had never really become that attached.  My mom and dad agreed to try it and see how he did.  If they couldn't take him, I wasn't giving him to anyone that I didn't know so they were my only option.

It has been 4 weeks since he has been living at their house alone and he is very content.  He is doing exactly what I had hoped for - he is spending time with them watching TV, wandering around the house, finding new places to sleep, eating well and seems very relaxed.  My dad has been great about keeping me updated and sending me pictures of him lounging around.  And neither he nor Oscar seem to care that the other one is missing.  They are going to keep him for me and give him the quiet home he needs.  I'm now quite happy I made the decision.  I was over there last night for the first time since he's been there and I was so happy to see him.  And I think he was happy to see me.  I really really miss him and his head butts but I know this is the right decision for him.  It took me awhile to make the decision and it wasn't easy, but I know he is happy there and is being well looked after.  And secretly I think my parents enjoy having him around.

I have since changed my judgments on people re-homing their pets.  I'm much more understanding about it now and am much more supportive.  If someone doesn't want their pet, then the best decision is to find someone who does.  And I will try to keep this in mind every time I'm told that someone has to give up their pet - promise.  :)

Muskrat Love

A large portion of my property by my river frontage is protected wetlands.  There are all sorts of wildlife that take advantage of this sanctuary from ducks and geese to snakes, toads and even a beaver (which I'm not too happy about!).  It is also home to several muskrats.  In the winter you can see their huts built on the ice in the middle of the marsh... probably at least 20 of them.  Then, unfortunately, in the spring the dogs tend to find quite a few dead muskrat remains throughout my property.  A really fun game to play involves the dogs running around proudly carrying the gross, boney and torn apart carcass and me trying to catch them and trade the disgusting piece of fur for a piece of hotdog.  Ya right!

My first experience with a muskrat was Easter Sunday in April 2009, my first spring on the farm.  My house and barn sit on higher land than the marsh and every year the river and marsh flood from all of the ice and snow melting.  My parents and I had walked to the top of the hill to check out the flooded area and Jackson had run down into the marsh.  Jackson is my 3.5 year old husky/shepherd - my intelligent, active, curious, sensitive dog who is also quite fearless when it comes to wildlife - and at the time he was only a year old.  As we were standing surveying the flood, I heard Jackson yelp and by the time I looked to see what had happened, he had a little muskrat in his mouth and was shaking it, and he was bleeding profusely on one front leg.  My first thought was "Great!  Now we have to go to the emergency clinic on a Sunday and this is going to cost me a few hundred dollars!  Welcome to farm life!"  My second thought was "Thank God he just had his rabies shot!"  I figure that he had accidentally walked over the little guy who was probably sleeping in some tall grass and as he was taken by surprise he bit Jackson on the lower front left leg and tore a few layers of his skin back... lots of blood!  Jackson had killed the muskrat by this point and happily dropped it, quite proud of himself.  "You bite me, I kill you!"  After looking quickly at his leg we got him back to the house and started to clean him up.  Thank goodness I work with dogs and have taken several pet first aid courses!  After getting a better look at it I realized it was quite a superficial wound - no puncture - and I didn't think he needed to go to the vet.  Especially on Easter Sunday!  (Vain Cheryl did take him to my own vet the next day for a stitch so that the scar wouldn't be so bad.  And I was quite proud of Jackson who took the stitch with just a local anesthetic.)  And here is the gross part... my dad and I went down to the marsh to clean up the muskrat remains so that the dogs wouldn't find it on a later walk.  This was only about 20 minutes after the incident and as my dad and I walked down the hill, 2 large vultures flew away.  They had already found and gutted the poor little guy.  As I shoveled what was left of it, guts and all, into a garbage bag my dad says "I can't believe you are doing this.  Good thing you aren't a princess!".  I don't think when I was born that my dad ever imagined I'd end up living on a farm and cleaning up animal carcasses.  I think he is quite proud of me!

My second experience with a muskrat and one of my dogs was a couple of days ago.  The flood had receded enough that we were able to get to the path along the river - one of my favourite places to walk the dogs - so we went down there for the first time in about a month.  The dogs loved it!  Lots of stuff to roll in and the remains of a dead bird to eat.  Yummy!  And feathers make great toys!  As Jackson and Abby were enjoying the dead bird, Trey had gone quite far ahead on his own hunting mission.  Trey is my 9 year old husky mix that I rescued a year ago.  He came from a poorly run dog sledding operation that was closed down by the International Humane Society because the dogs were so neglected.  Some day I'll go into his history and my experiences in my first year with him, but for the purposes of this story all you need to know is that he has a high prey drive.  And when he is on a hunt, he does NOT listen to me.  This particular day he found quite a big muskrat and by the time I saw him he was strutting by me with it in his mouth.  I'm not sure if he found it dead, or if he killed it, but either way he was quite proud of his catch.  I desperately held out a dried chicken fillet hoping he'd give it up to me and he simply ran past with a glance at the chicken that seemed to say "Are you kidding me?  You think I'm going to give up this awesome piece of fresh muskrat for a little chicken fillet?  You're nuts!"  And he continued to run back along the path.  Now, Trey is quite adept at staying just out of reach when he wants to and I generally keep a leash dragging on him on our walks so that I can catch him if I need to.  But of course, on this particular day I decided not to put the leash on him.  So I was quite worried that he would continue to run somewhere to lie down and eat his fresh find and when I approached, he'd jump up and run out of reach again.  I saw this game repeating itself for quite some time and quickly gave up all thoughts of plans for the rest of my afternoon.  I've had some experience trying to catch him when he is on a scent, or chasing down a raccoon, and he is very good at the "keep away" game.  So I started to follow him slowly so as not to make him run faster and as I was trying to come up with a plan to catch him, he peeled off the path into the trees and started digging a hole.  Amazing!  I watched him from a distance so that I wouldn't spook him away, and he dug a bit of a hole and then stuffed the muskrat in it and covered it up.  When I felt I could approach him, I walked quietly up to him and he just stood, looked at me quite calmly - his job was done - and let me click the leash on him.  Really really cool!  My dogs are quite spoiled and live a good life.... they are allowed on my couch, have dog beds in every room, are given great food and treats, sleep on my bed, go for hikes... at times I forget they are dogs.  So when I see their natural instincts and wild side come out it reminds me that they are indeed DOGS.  It is so fascinating to me to see them do what comes naturally for them from their basic instincts, even after years of evolution and domestic breeding.  Really really cool! 

But it sucks for the muskrats.

Cleaning up Trey's buried treasure.

Welcome!

I've done it.  I've given in to the requests to write about my life.  Two and a half years ago I moved from Toronto to a farm in rural Ottawa and every time something amusing, funny, eventful or down right tragic happens all I hear is "you should write a book".  So at the suggestion of my good friend Jennifer, I am going to start a blog.  Who knows if anyone will ever read this but it will be a record for me to have of my new farm life and all the hilarity and aggravation that goes along with it.

Since Jennifer suggested I write this blog, I figured she'd be a good first story.  Today's hilarity began when Jennifer, who is staying with me for a month, and I went to walk the dogs in the vacant farm fields.  As we were heading out I looked down at Jennifer's shoes and questioned "Is that what you're wearing?  Where are your boots?"  She had on tiny little walking shoes that only had a strap covering the top of her foot - and they were slips on!  I suggested she go back home and try on a pair of mine but they didn't fit and she has a blister from her new rubber boots (so she did bring rubber boots to the farm with her - I'll give her credit for that) so the choice of shoes she can now wear is limited.  So with an "I'll be fine!" from Jennifer, we continued on our walk.

Now, keep in mind it is April.  The muddiest month of the year on the farm.  And it rained/snowed all day yesterday so it isn't really dry here.  It took about 20 minutes before she was knee deep in mud, fell over and lost her shoe!  Hilarious!  And then another 20 minutes before her shoes were so covered in mud and straw that her feet looked like they were under-cover - camoflauged!  Her shoes are now in the garbage bin.

My stories may amuse you or bore you to tears.  But it is my life and this is now my way of recording all the things I find memorable about it.  My 3 dogs and I seem to always find some way to keep life interesting on the farm!  Stay tuned!

Jennifer knee deep in mud!

Shoes not to wear hiking on the farm in spring.