Self-imposed doggie-prison...

GREETINGS FROM SOUTH AFRICA!
MAXMOM here...

When Toby was only ten months old, I withdrew him from dog training.  In retrospect, it may seem silly, but at the time I was exhausted.  We’d just wound up a hectic training schedule for his performance in the stage production of ‘ANNIE’. 

Although Toby was young, he’d already completed his puppy classes, his elementary beginners’ class and received his certificate for ‘Canine Good Citizenship – bronze.  (I suppose this is quite extra-ordinary for a dog so young)  He’d also appeared in the show ring and been on a few school visits.  But “ANNIE” was the pinnacle of all our hard work –  5 days, 7 performances.  Phew!  We were both exhausted!

After some thought, I decided to give us both a break: I withdrew him from the strict, formalised dog-training regime and promised to give him time to “just be a dog”.  We adopted a daily routine of leisurely walks, interspersed with a few sessions of reinforcing all his tricks and obedience commands.  He was young and energetic but also needed some freedom – space to explore and to rest.

This break allowed me to concentrate on my writing too, as well as the publicity surrounding the publication of my book, MAXDOG.  Everything fitted into place and Toby spent his days at my feet – enjoying the occasional treat thrown his way.

He’s been an amazing dog in his three years of life.  As a mature dog, he’s large, energetic and has become quite a handful in recent months.  

The addition of our dear little Lexi into our household has obviously also added another dynamic.  In my usual ‘go-for-it’ kind of way, I’ve applied myself diligently to Lexi’s basic training and socialisation.  She’s fitted beautifully into our family (both canine and human), but again it’s been hard work.  She’s making steady progress and her training will continue in the months ahead.

Toby’s behaviour however, since Lexi’s inclusion, has become increasingly energetic.  He has “celebrated” her arrival with renewed energy.  The two of them play endlessly, for hours. But I’ve also noticed small changes in Toby’s behaviour – increasing distraction, refused recalls and an odd hint of depression.  After some serious thought, I decided to take him back to formalized dog-training.  Our first class was on Thursday last week.

I must admit, I was rather apprehensive as we rode to the training centre with Toby in the back of the vehicle.  He is a big dog and, at times, difficult to control.  Although he knows his commands and performs them beautifully at home, he pulls on the lead when out-and-about and sees his ultimate reward as the opportunity to play freely with other dogs.  He is so exuberant that he has, indeed, caused me great embarrassment when  he knocked someone over in the park on one occasion.   In simply terms, he’s become over-friendly which is often construed (understandably) as basic bad manners.  I had to do something to stop the trend.

But Toby surprised me at his first training session. Instead of the lurching forward with the uncontrollable behaviour I was expecting, he was just so contented to be back in the McKaynine training environment.  It was a breeze and I have a happy dog again!   All I want is to give him personal time with me - away from my other canine companions.  Touch wood, it’s working.  He loves it!

So now I have two dogs at formalised training; Toby on a Thursday evening and Lexi on a Saturday morning.  In addition, I have the challenge of caring for an elderly dog too.  Tammy is definitely in her Twilight years - sleeping a lot in the day...

Add this to all the walks and individualised training at home, there's not much time left for me.  I feel constantly tired – enslaved by three dogs with radically different needs – and I sometimes feel quite overwhelmed.  In my heart, however, I know that this investment is important for the long-term relationship with my animals.

Next week, we’ll be taking a break – to a game farm – and I will use the opportunity to recuperate and escape from my self-imposed doggie-prison.  The pooches will be left behind in the capable hands of our dog-sitter.  We are really looking forward to it.

So, tell me - do you sometimes feel overwhelmed by your own dog regime?

Sending lotsaluv

A service dog's plea ...

(...for Darryl and Hoby, with love)

LEXI should be in the comedy industry....

GREETINGS FROM SOUTH AFRICA!

MAXMOM here...

Hello there, dear friends...
Our little Sunbeam - LEXI - is turning into a real little comic. I am often reduced to giggles by her little antics.  Take this picture, for example:

This was taken soon after she'd had a major jaunt in and out of the swimming pool, the water feature and the rain.  When she's having fun, nothing else matters...and swimming is her favourite activity (besides playing with Toby)  The downside is that her coat isn't that full yet, so she gets cold very quickly.  Water activities speed up the chill, so I have to dry her off quickly.  In the above picture, she fell asleep before she was even dry .  Can you tell which is blanket and which is Lexi?

Her different sleeping positions are most amusing too:

 ...and the way she stares at her food bowl when it is empty...

Lexi has resumed her puppy classes after the Easter break. 
(Thank goodness, she has missed her formal training)

 It was amazing to see how all the pups have grown. 

Our lessons are held at McKaynine Training Centre at 11am on a Saturday. Today the pups had a substantial amount of 'free play' in the fenced off Puppy area.  Lexi is still very fearful of the playful energy of dogs she doesn't know and will seek out human company during any off -lead activities.  She is a gentle soul and I am looking forward to watching her confidence grow.
On lead, however, it is a totally different story.  She is very happy amongst crowds and other dogs (as long as they are on lead).  I am sure, over time, this will change.  It is wonderful to be able to work with a dog who is focussed on me.

After the 'free play', the pups did a few obstacle exercises.

The funniest of these exercises was when the handlers were asked to hide behind the agility 'tunnel' (after handing over our pup to the instructor).  Lexi's turn was very amusing indeed.  There was quite a bit of laughter during her performance. 
 I must just mention that the agility tunnel is Lexi's absolute delight.  During her exercise, it turned into a toss up between staying in the 'tunnel' or returning to"'Mum".

Here is the little video clip - ENJOY! 

If you can't view it nicely, then you can go to the link at:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gtb13ADMYo0&feature=youtu.be

Our Sunbeam continues to grow bigger by the day.
She is a fun-filled, loving pup with exuberant energy.
Tonight, however, I'm certain that she'll 'sleep like a puppy'.

Have a wonderful, fun-filled weekend!
Sending lotsaluv

THE "BREAK-IN" (Or more accurately..."THE FLY-IN"): Tammy saves the day...

GREETINGS FROM SOUTH AFRICA!

MAXMOM here...

It’s common knowledge that crime in South Africa is rife.  Every day there are new stories of attempted robberies and house-breaking.  Jittery citizens are constantly on the alert. This includes me.

Well, we had a “break-in” today.  Thankfully, I wasn’t home at the time, but received a frantic phone-call from my husband’s office to tell me that the panic button had been activated in our house and the security company was on their way.

“Are you ok?” the ‘Boss’ sounded distressed.

“Sure,” I said. “I’m having tea with a friend.  Thankfully, I’m not at home at the moment.”

“How far away are you?” his tone was urgent.

“Not far, but I’m on my way. Maybe you can ask the security company to go into the property and check things out.  But don’t worry, I’ll be there shortly!” I reassured him.

I abandoned my warm teacup, grabbed my car keys and said a quick good-bye to my friend.

“Let me know if everything is ok,” my friend shouted.  I nodded, gave a brief wave and turned into the main road. The trip home was nerve-racking. What was stolen?  Who had broken in? Five minutes later I pulled into the driveway.

The security vehicle was parked outside on our pavement – lights flashing - and the pedestrian gate was ajar. I parked and quickly locked the car.   The dogs were frantic and running around wildly.

“Here ma’am!” I heard his call and I made my way around the house to the back yard. There were glass shards everywhere.  With his baton in his hand, the security guard told me that the intruder had broken through the bedroom window.  “He’s in the bedroom,” he said. “Maybe you should go inside and see.  Do you want me to come with you?”

“Huh?”

He saw my confusion and gave a reassuring smile. 

“Don’t worry, Ma’am,” he laughed.  “It’s just a Hadedah Ibis!   The bird flew right through your window.  He’s inside, but really scared, so I don’t want to go in myself – he might do even more damage.”

Hadedah Ibises are wild birds and not meant to be indoors.  They are large and adorned with  extra-strong, curved beaks that are meant to be used for digging up grubs in the garden. This one was in our private bedroom!

I quickly locked the dogs away and entered the house to start my reconnaissance. I knew that the poor creature would be terrified, so I grabbed a light blanket and made my way down the passage towards the main bedroom. 

A picture of Armageddon awaited me:  Glass was strewn on the carpets and the poor thing had, literally, sh*t himself!  At first I couldn’t see the bird, but then found him - cowering under my wing-back chair, making strange hissing sounds as I approached. 

I opened the blanket like a Spanish bull-fighter and moved in.  The bird backed into the corner.  Then with the agility of 007, the creature darted through my legs, around our king-size bed, and made its way desperately down the passage.  (I’ve always wondered why our feathered friends choose to walk when they are created to fly.) What a funny sight – a desperate waddle down my passage by my newfound, feathered friend.

With equal stamina, I tracked its jaunt.  It arrived at the security gate in the passage, took one look at it and made a right turn into my private ‘Den’.  Oh no, I thought, I’ve just cleaned the place out.  But the bird was on its own mission - to find a dark place to hide in – Pronto!  It made its way straight for my open cupboard – the darkest place in the room. Soon I was on my knees next to it and managed to throw the blanket over the bird, wrap it up and gather it up under my arms.  I stuffed it in my armpit like a set bag-pipes and walked out of the house with haste.  Whew!

For some reason these birds switch off their mental faculties when in darkness, so it settled into an uneasy calm while inside the blanket.   Once in the open sunshine again, I paused and eased the blanket off, hoping to check if it had any injuries.  The bird took one look at ‘daylight’ and sensed freedom.  The fluttering under my arm was frantic and I acquiesced.   With a loud ‘KWEEEEEH!!!” our intruder took off amidst the frantic barking of my Golden trio behind the gate.

I can only assume that it was our dear ‘Aunt Tam’ who was catalyst to this adrenalin-filled event, (Tammy's entire life mission has been to catch one of these creatures.  She’s stalked them for years) She must have taken it by surprise during it's leisurely breakfast at the back of our house, prompting it to launch itself at our bedroom window.  The responding siren from the alarm must have sent it into an even more urgent frenzy. Unfortunately, however, it was trapped.

So you see – ‘house breaking’ has definitely migrated to an unusual section of our community - the large bird population in Johannesburg.  Now I’m having to answer a number of awkward questions from my friends; the most common of which is:  

“Was anything taken during the break-in?”

Very funny!  I can gladly report that nothing was stolen by my feathered friend, but I’ve had to spend the entire afternoon vacuuming up glass and washing our carpets. For the time being, cardboard has replaced the missing glass pane - that task can wait for tomorrow.  I can only imagine the twitching noses and investigated efforts from my Golden trio when I grant them access later tonight. 

Crime is certainly on the increase, but 12-year-old 'Aunt Tam' is  making determined efforts to eradicate it!  Thank you, Tammy!

MAXMOM EATS HUMBLE-PIE

Truly, our Great Creator has a perplexing sense of humour! ...

As some of you may know, I’m half blind without my reading glasses and, just when I mislay them, I realise that I actually need my glasses in order to find them.  Yeah, it’s a twist of fate – an awkward reminder of my fallibility. As age creeps up on me, so does my deteriorating sight.  But add a puppy to the equation and the reality becomes even graver!

I have spent the last 20 minutes in a careful search of every corner of my house.  As if adding insult to injury, Lexi has accompanied me on my search – her smiling, cheerful face attached to a wild, waggy tail.  She is a living, walking jibe at my unfortunate situation.  She doesn’t realise that I am quickly approaching end of my tether. 

Having searched the entire length of my house, my only option now is to migrate ‘outside’ and pace the lawn and the flower beds too – carefully!  I need my glasses even more to do this. I feel defeated, but I concede, and exit into the bright morning sunshine.

 “Come Lexi,” I say. “Be a good dog and please show me where have you taken them this time,” I say sarcastically. 

The pup doesn’t seem to notice my simmering mood and repeats her uninhibited ‘happy dance’ around my ankles.

The next question is “What condition will they be in when I find them?”  Oh God, my battered brain is balking!  Will they be salvageable? Will I be able to see past the tiny teeth marks? Damn this puppy!  Images of tiny glass mosaics and corrugated frames play out their comedy in my imagination.  Lucky for me, my far-sightedness in still intact.  I can see the puppy watching me – innocence etched on her features – she studies my every move.

“What can I help you with, Maxmom?” her eyes plead curiously as she approaches me again with a wide, anticipatory dog-grin.

“It’s you, Lexi, I know it’s you!” She knows I’m not impressed, but she wags her tail even harder.

Exhausted and defeated, I return to my kitchen and switch the kettle on.  I slump into the seat next to my computer at the kitchen table. Out of sheer habit, my hand reaches forward, next to the computer and closes around an all-too-familiar shape. I open the object and place it on my nose.  Sight restored! Whew!

Only then does the realisation hit me. It's time to eat serious humble-pie.  Lexi sits next to me, staring up at me adoringly, innocent and most of all - forgiving. She waits ... Her tail is a blur as my mood turns for the better.  I sigh audibly in humility.

“I’m so sorry, my girl,” I say.  “But it’s nice to at least have someone to blame.”

Oh the joys of being human!

"THE KEEPSAKE" - a short, fictional story by Caryl Moll

...AND NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT...

a short, fictional story ...

Some background:

Every two weeks I get together with a fellow-writer for a 'cuppa'. The objective of this meeting it to encourage one another in our craft.  We often make use of writing prompts and prepare short pieces for discussion.  I am grateful to my writing partner for this fun, creative and inspiring time.  

Today, I'd like to share one of the things I recently wrote.  Our writing prompt was:

 'The keepsake'.  

I know it has nothing to do with dogs, but hey, this is meant to be a fun blog with all sorts of content, so I hope you don't mind me going out at a limb.  Your comments and response to the short story will be heartily welcomed. 

Please note that this short story is a work of FICTION!  

Having said that....just enjoy!  :) With love, c

THE KEEPSAKE  by Caryl Moll 

(Copyright protected)

(A short, fictional story)

Treasured pieces of memorabilia stare back at me as I open up our display cabinet.  My feather duster is ready in my hands. As usual, the two pieces of shiny driftwood shout the loudest.

 “Clean us! We’re first!”

Their history floods back – etched in all its vivid splendour, like a river racing towards me. I pause and ponder. It was a long time ago…

At the  tender age of fifteen, I stood at the edge of the beach with slumped shoulders, simmering anger and tears streaming my cheeks. In desperation I curled up my toes and pushed them firmly into the damp sand. Brushing back a strand of wet hair, I took a deep breath and kicked hard. The relief of tension felt good, but the sandy column spiralled upwards, then fell heavily  - directly onto me.

“Urrrrrgh!” I shouted at the waves in frustration.

As if on cue, a hand rested on my shoulder.  “What’s wrong, kitten?” 

Paulie had appeared out of nowhere – in all his beautiful glory.  He must have been watching me. My anger dissipated as I cringed with embarrassment. I tried desperately to dust the sand out of my face but my heart also fluttered wildly at his presence.

He dipped to my level, looking deeply into my eyes and smiled.  He was already nineteen years old and, for as long as I’d known him, had been one of my allies on the beach – a body guard who had diverted the bullies when I was younger. But his softer side had emerged in recent years and offered me reassurances at just the right moment. I noticed how tall he had grown as I turned my head upwards.  He had gorgeous deep-brown eyes.

“Come, let’s walk a bit, Kit.  You can tell me all about it along the way.”  Paulie offered me a cool hand.

We walked steadily and slowly along that long beach. It was easy to pour out my problems to him.  He listened attentively as I spoke. Soft, gentle waves lapped at our feet, enticing me to marvel at the size of his footprints compared to my own small ones.  I always felt at peace with Paulie.

Eventually we arrived at the estuary and flopped down, exhausted, on the embankment to watch the river.  Paulie stretched himself out. We’d fallen into comfortable silence as we watched the debris float by - there’d been heavy storms somewhere on the plateau.  Soon, a piece of driftwood passed and Paulie stood up to retrieve it. I took the opportunity to drink up his image.

“Look at this beautiful wood, Kit,” he said boldly. “Have you any idea how far it has floated to be with us?” Paulie’s tone was academic.  I smiled and shook my head.

In his usual way, Paulie fell into a long story about the shiny piece of wood while I wallowed in his image.  I wasn’t really listening to him.   It must have travelled a thousand bends to be with us, he told me; sometimes fast, sometimes slow, through forests and past settlements. It must have gone right over a waterfall too! My attention drifted back to his little speech.

“Perhaps it was waiting to be picked up by us,” I offered, jokingly.  He nodded.

Somehow Paulie always knew how to temper my dark moods and hold my attention. Sometimes I focussed on what he was saying and sometimes I simply allowed his golden voice to sweep over me like this feather duster. I could listen to him forever.  He was my first, innocent love and had sewn himself into my heart.

With shiny muscles, gleaming in the sunlight, Paulie balanced the wood over his knee and pressed hard.  It broke in half, dropping splinters on the soft embankment.  He held one of the pieces out to me.

“Here Kitten, you take this piece.  It’s for you. Keep it in a safe place as a reminder of what I’ve said.  Whenever you're unhappy, like today, think about our the driftwood.  It's travelled far, in one piece, like you and me ... " he added.

Paulie looked at me seriously.  “Katie,” he emphasized, using my real name. “Put this thought in your heart: ‘You are never alone.  I will always be with you.’” 

Years have passed since that special day. Of the 60 years Paulie and I have spent together, only thirteen were without him.  During those years, while each of us went our separate ways, we’d both lovingly kept our pieces of driftwood.  They came together on that amazing day when Paulie asked me to marry him.

Keepsakes and memories are intertwined. So too is Paulie’s driftwood and mine.  

Tomorrow, our 40^th anniversary, we’ll walk together along the beach again – slowly this time, I am sure, but moulded together in a different way.  We were made for one another – just like these two pieces of driftwood. 

As if by magic, I feel Paulies’ arms enfold me.  I emerge out of my day-dream as he turns me around and plants a loving kiss on my forehead. His face is wrinkled now, but the dark-eyes still touch me in a way like no other. I reach for the two pieces of driftwood, but he stops me bluntly.  

“Here,” he says.  “Let me take them.  It’s time that I glued them together for the rest of our journey.  Happy anniversary, my love!”  

---xXx---