Corn dog

Maya is a corn dog. Well, according to our trainer anyway. I mentioned to trainer Mike last week that Maya had an ear infection, her second in the last three months. He asked what we fed her. Purina One dog food. That, he said, is the problem. He said that food contains corn and Maya is getting an allergic reaction to it. Corn, wheat and soy are not good foods for dogs. I noted that her skin is red and our friend, who is a vet and came to see her last week for the ear infection, told Meche that the redness was an allergic reaction. Mike said she has sensitive skin and her ear infection is related to that. He said changing her food to one with more animal protein would be better. Not sure of the name of the brand he recommended but I'll check again this week and write it down. Several brands I checked on line have names that sound like what he said, Abundant Life or Bountiful Life.

Then this week I saw a commercial for Blue Buffalo dog food and they emphasized the issue about corn. I might try that and Mike mentioned it as well. I know Innova is also supposed to be good--and they have a commercial with an Irish red and white setter that looks just like Maya. Gotta try it if for no other reason.

Twilight Trek

Over the weekend I filled in some of the holes Maya made in the yard. I dug up topsoil from the little woods back of my yard and filled in the most jarring scars. It will take a fair bit more dirt to fill all the places she has excavated but that may have to wait til spring. She hasn't been at it much this week, and I suspect she's spending more time indoors during the day. Her fault. Not sure dogs can be trained not to dig but since we go to training weekly and Maya is moving up this week to the Obedience II class, maybe I'll find out more about what can and can't be expected of her.

Actually, she's doing so well around the house. She rarely tries to get out when we open the door and she is much more inclined to sit when people come in, though that depends on who is entering. She rarely jumps up on me and if we're alone she won't even come over to me unless I call her. But when the kids or Meche are home she's already excited and then comes scurrying over to me and sits for some attention. Still, she chews indiscriminately and yesterday gnawed on Fionna's Nook cord. It was on Fionna's bed plugged into the wall. Not cool for Maya, and not F's fault since she had shut her door, or so she says. But others open it and don't bother to shut it. Unfortunately, Fionna was only one page short of finishing a novel and is pissed at the dog. She was complaining about my dog and disavowing family ownership. Too bad. For that disrespect, she can pay for her own new Nook charging cable.

Meche and I took Maya for a walk on Sunday afternoon about 4 o'clock, up the mountain I discovered in the summer. It was Meche's first outing there--and only the second time she has accompanied me to walk the dog, though once I went with her and the daycare. We didn't make it to the top of the mountain, but almost, turning back at a junction where the trail splits in three places, one going left vertically up to the peak, such as it is, and one going around the side and approaching the high point from a more gradual ascent. The other trail, a mountain bike route, goes right and loops back to the main trail. We turned around as the sun was setting and I wasn't sure we'd get back out before it got to dark. Daylight savings time ended over night and I didn't want to overestimate the day. It was a good call.  It was pretty well into twilight when we reached the car and Meche admitted she'd been scared the whole hike. It's a pretty isolated area, though there are houses along the road. It has a lonely quality to it and I seldom run into other people there. I like that about it. Meche said she didn't know how I could go alone there all the time. I said I have my trusty dog with me! I've been slightly spooked a couple of times there when I've stayed too near to darkness, partly because I've noticed Maya doesn't like it when she can't see and gets more nervous at dusk. I wonder what would happen if we encountered a coyote or a bear. Not impossible at all.

It was nice of Meche to go with me. Hardly anyone ever does.

The next day I was off from work and took Maya to the wilderness. We met eight or 10 dogs at different points on the trail and Maya was happy to romp a bit with the others. She behaved super, too, coming when I called her to walk in the opposite direction from her friends, and she waded deep into the stream, getting herself cleaned off nicely. We also ran into Karen and her dog Maggie. They  originally told me about the wilderness after I met them on a walk in a leash-only park, so after I started going to the wilderness and met her and her husband and baby there a few times, I told her about the mountain. I've never met her there but she told me they'd gone various times, usually midday, and love it. Maybe we'll meet one of these times. I don't tell many people about the place. I don't want to spoil the quiet, spiritual tranquility I sometimes feel there. It's like having my own private woods, almost.

Wrack and ruin

Sometimes it seems like Maya is intent on alienating herself from me. She is repeatedly digging up the yard, which I reseeded only about a month ago. Last night I came home to find five (yeah! five!) holes, some of them four or six--maybe eight--inches deep in some cases, in a nice straight row. It's like she just went down the line digging like crazy. Why? She needs more exercise and attention. This is happening during the day when I'm at work. But Maya isn't at home alone. She's being allowed outside alone and without supervision and is tearing the place apart. The solution is getting her out more, and when I close this issue of the magazine (and get over this wicked cold) I'll work on that, but with the days getting shorter and colder, it's likely to get more and more difficult. But the short-term answer is not letting her dig, watching her, just like any of the other children. She's still just a pup.

The reality is I feel really let down. I've worked so hard on that yard this year, and worked all summer long alongside the guys building the stone retaining wall and then the deck, taking advantage of them working to do other jobs that were best done while their work was going on, or working with them to assure that things turned out the way we wanted. I've tended that grass repeatedly trying to restore it to a half-way decent lawn. In the end, I feel that my sweat and my aching muscles count for nothing and my labor--given on my weekends and days off and after work--is taken for granted. A big joke. The fool working his ass off for nothing.

I get mad at Maya, but she's just a dog and is trying to burn off energy. She is being allowed to dig. So why am I wasting my time--my life--even trying? I feel like saying, to wrack and ruin with the whole friggin' place.

Fall snow

Snow today. Record early storm, I think. Maya loved it. She's seen it before but I don't think she remembered. No photos. Well, none with Maya. She really didn't seem to mind it as long as she could tear around the yard, but she kept losing the white tennis ball. So, I tossed a half deflated red soccer ball and she went crazy. When I tried to get her to go in she refused to go and I had to kick the ball around a few more times with my hands and feet freezing in the wet, heavy slush. Plus we had to stay near the house because branches, still laden with autumn leaves, were falling every few minutes. After a few more kicks of the ball, Maya decided to go in ... on her terms.

Clashing spirits

An example of clashing restless spirits today. Maya and I met up with our neighbor with the rotweillers tonight and I let Maya free to run and play, but things got very rough with one of the rots. Maya was running like crazy and coming back to them brushing by them with lightning speed and the bigger, older rot got angry. Maybe he was upset because he was on his leash and couldn't run free.But his owners said it was Maya's instinct to run that way but the rots' instinct to herd and control. Ah ...the restless spirit issue we discussed in my dog training class.

I had to grab Maya, who hunkered down in fear when the big rot aggressively pinned her to the ground, and I put her back on her leash. The wet weather might be making them all a little cranky.

Below are some of the photos I couldn't upload the other night. Maya the water dog:

Maya needs to be off leash, and she's been such a good dog about coming back to me. Still going to dog training and I think we will for a good while. She's too smart a dog to ignore training her. Plus I met a guy one day with a German short-haired pointer who does field trials with his dog. Maybe I'll try that with Maya.

Sun and water

Wow, three months without updating this blog and so much has happened with Maya.

She discovered water this summer, first at one "dog park" with open trails where I was taking her for a bit in the summer and then at the "Wilderness." It's really not wilderness but that's what it's called and it's a great place to walk Maya, or better let her run loose, and there's a great stream that she owns now! No more the water-shy puppy.

I've been trying to upload photos but for some reason am not getting the right pop-up menu when I click on the 'insert image' icon. And it is late. I'll try again tomorrow ... or soon.

Also discovered another great place to let Maya run: a mountain down past the preserve with the lake where I used to take Maya when I started this blog. Looking for a place to let her run free I took her on the trails through the swamp and explored the trail leaving the preserve. I came to a road and found another park where mostly mountain bikers go. Occasionally I meet another dog owner. The trails there not only go up the mountain but go to the reservoir. Unfortunately, the path to the reservoir crosses state land where hunting is permitted. That starts this week. Maya loves it there, though she also likes the wilderness and I'll probably go to the wilderness more often during hunting season, which goes to the end of the year. No point in risking someone mistakenly entering the park with a gun. Maya's white hide could easily be mistaken for the rear end of a white tail deer.

Happy trails ...

Found a great new "dog park" not from from my house ... 10 minutes probably. Trails open to dogs off leash. Took Maya there today, her third walk of the day por mi, but kept her on a leash just to get a sense of the park. Looks like a great place to let her go ... as long as she comes back with no problem. She's been great with Kobu but not sure how she'll do on her own.

I thought having a dog would help me keep my weight down with all the walking. Something's not working right. Not that I'm obese or anything but I'm lugging about 20 pounds over optimum and not making progress on it. Plus, walking Maya keeps me from running. Somehow I should do both but it's not working out. It's either too blasted hot--lately anyway--or I just have too much to do and so we saunter around the neighborhood looking for Maya's playmates.

Gotta work on this.

Blood and Daisy

We bathe Maya once a month, at least, when it's time for her anti-flea and tick med, which is a topical ointment we put on her back. She was overdue by a couple days when Meche and I gave her a bath this evening. She sees it as torture by terrorists. For Maya, she's locked in a small room, held down and subjected to repeated water treatments. She's even taunted with treats and entreaties to "calm down" ... "that's a good girl" ... just before being administered another water shock. Betrayed by her primary care giver, who's trying to hold her still, she's at the mercy of the disciplinarian intent on carrying out the task of repeated dousing.

I was soaked through. I climbed into the tub with her and just held onto her. That was the only way. She'd gotten so panicky I had let her out of the tub and let her shake off a couple of times, during which we lathered her with the shampoo Meche had managed to squirt onto her in one of the tub bouts. There's gotta be a better way but I don't have it down. Maybe I should take her to a groomer and observe.

Then I tried to clip her nails. I got as far as the first one and she bolted bleeding. She made red paw prints around living room, dining room and kitchen. A groom and a nail clipping in order. I think Meche cleaned Maya's ears, but will have to check ... tomorrow ... when I'm outside and in old clothes ... so she can shake her head off after. She's got the best ears for the Barney song, "Do your ears hang low? Can you toss them to and fro? Can you tie them in a knot? Can you tie them in a bow? Can you throw them o'er your shoulder, like a Continental Soldier? Do your ears hang low?"

Yep.

Maya's treat was playing with Daisy, who just happened to be walking by when we went out for a walk about 8ish or 8:30. We met Daisy the other night when we happened upon a gathering on 1 Street. She already knows the two Rottweilers, Leo and Taz, and Max, whose ethnicity I forget but he's one of those scruffy looking, cute little dogs, and he and Maya had a great time tussling in his yard a couple of weeks ago. There was another little dog, whose name I also forget, and Daisey—the puppy. At three months she's the newbie. Her owners said she's a beagle mix, but she looks plenty beagle and is a pretty girl with white with black patches on her torso and white, black and brown on her face.

Maya was crazy the other night at the gathering, over-excited at finding a party in the middle of the street and then throwing herself shamelessly under Leo. Gotta instill some self-respect in her ... and get her fixed.

Freedom with limits

Maya had at least one great day this Fourth of July weekend. Saturday we went to a despedida (goodbye party) for friends who are moving back to Mexico. It was at David's house in the woods. At first I tied Maya up with Kobu on her 30-foot cable, just like Kobu's, and they had a great time. But once I noticed they had unleashed Kobu I decided to give Maya her chance. She did superbly. She never left the yard except the one time David and I were close to the road, looking at his flower garden. Then Maya wandered onto his road, though it's sparsely traveled and she came back with I called her. It was a nice party, even through to the fire pit after dark, though I'm suffering terribly from the mosquito bites, despite repellent. Maya was just one more well-behaved guest with us. I gave Kobu and Maya each a CET chew I get from the vet and Kobu got right protective of his when Maya got too near when he was gnawing away.

It was a great party. Will miss our friends. Have to get Maya up there more often this summer. Today we went to a local dog park. The dogs can run free in the enclosed fence but the grounds is all wood chips and it's not the most attractive place I've seen to run your dog. Plus Maya started to run like crazy, the ways she likes to do once in a while to burn off energy, and an older female dog made her stop. I think Maya's running made her nervous. It's not my favorite place to take her.

I also let her loose in the yard this evening, at Meche's insistence, and scolded Maya when she went toward the deck stairs or toward the opening near the retaining wall. She responded well. She fetched a ball for a while and didn't run off. But later I had to scooper her up literally as she was in the act of jumping the gate! That was it for the night .

She was really good during dinner, though. I fed her just before and while she nosed around seeing if anyone would feed her, she gave up easily and just laid down at our feet while we caught the end of the Peru-Uruguay soccer match for the America's cup.

On the leash

Maya has advanced from puppy class to obedience train. She was six month old on Saturday, the same day we began training. As usual, though, the training was more about training the owners than the dogs. Our first class was about holding the leash. Yeah, the leash.

Okay, it makes sense and I find I was intuitively holding the leash similarly to what the trainer said, the thumb through the loop and create another loop by gripping the leash higher up and for extra control holding the leash midway toward the dog with the other hand. And we learned how to lock up the leash by wrapping it once again around the same thumb. It sound complicated but isn’t really.

Anyway, the idea is always have control of the dog and lead it without having to be rough with her or jerking her. The training’s golden rule is timing, patience and consistency. This is consistency, getting the dog used to the leash and the guidance of it. As long as she is walking in the direction you want her to, basically with you, the leash is loose without pressure on her, but when she deviates from the direction she’s suppose to go, the pressure of the leash locking up should guide her to move in the direction of least resistance.

Patience and consistency. I’ve never been that great at that with my daughters. Now I have to get it right with Maya? I was thinking as I walked her tonight now my treatment of Maya sometime reflects my parenting skills: well intentioned but often overbearing. 

Running Maya

Today I ran Maya. It’s actually the first time I have taken her on a run, though we’ve run a little bit while walking a few times. We went to Rockwood Hall, a park along the Hudson where some impressive chiseled stonewalls are all that’s left of a mansion that once stood there maybe 100 years ago. A nice walking trail circles the park, making about a 2.25-mile course. Maya and I went there about 1 pm and ran a mile and then walked a quarter mile and then ran another mile. After that we walked, and then a little more running when a couple runners going a lot faster than we had went by. Maya got excited and started to run with them. They said they were going about 8 minutes a mile, which beats the hell out of my 10 to 11 minutes a mile. When I stopped Maya was obviously disappointed. My pace bored her! In total we did 3.9 miles.

She was tuckered. This evening she wouldn’t chase a tennis ball for anything. She would have played tug but I don’t play that with her leash and that’s all I had. She crashed about 10, even though Fionna had a bunch of friends over watching a movie. Kids are normally an unbearable distraction for Maya, who thinks everyone is her playmate.
One of the trainers said I shouldn’t run her until she’s about a year old and completely gown. I think she wants to run and something like what I did today isn’t too much for her. Plus, I need to get out and run with some regularity. I’ve been in a funk for at least a half year. Thought I might have picked up Lime Disease or some other thing but the doctor found only a low count for vitamin B12. So getting shots for that. He says that should help restore my energy. It’s good stuff, B12. But he also said the best thing for fatigue is exercise! I haven’t run hardly at all since last fall, but a year ago I was regularly doing six-mile runs and in April of 2010 had even twice run the equivalent of a half marathon! I prefer running on dirt or gravel, so if I keep to that and don’t over do it with Maya, I think she’ll be fine. Me too, I hope.

Cheerio, and all that

Cheerios made nice lettering for a project in the daycare, where the kids made signs with their names using the cereal. Maya LOVED 'em.

Not a Brittany are you?

“What kind of spaniel are you?” The latest round of guessing what breed of dog is Maya. At the reserve I stopped at the pavilion on the lakeshore and sat watching the water and the Canada goose that was making Maya nervous. Three slightly goth-looking young people stopped, two girls and a heavy-set, longhaired boy. The girls marveled at how well behaved and sweet Maya was, saying when they found out how young she was that she was going to be a great dog. Then one, talking to Maya, wondered the above.

People are always guessing her to be a spaniel, often an English Springer spaniel, though I don’t think she’s the right color from what I’ve seen but that’s not to say I’ve seen very many. The other day a guy a couple blocks from here, who has a collie and border collie colored dog he says is some sort of shepherd, mistook Maya for a Brittany spaniel. That would be pretty close in looks. From the pictures I’ve seen on the web—having never actually seen a Brittany spaniel—they seem to have a heavier coat and more of an orange color to their patches, rather than the chestnut of the Irish setters. And, of course, Maya’s tail isn’t docked. No one ever takes her for an Irish setter and I suspect few people have ever heard of a the Irish red and white setter. People are often surprised when I tell them that’s what she is, and I often hear, “I thought Irish setters were only red.”

Most Irish setters now are all red. Apparently, it wasn’t always so.

Breeders of the Irish red and white setters say the breed dates to at least the mid-1700s and cite paintings from the period depicting red and white setters. Registering dog breeds didn’t happen until the 1860s. According to Maya’s breeder, Jean Plumber, writing in The Pointing Dog Journal, both all-red and red and white setters were shown at the Rotunda Show in Dublin, Ireland, in 1863, and after that time the reds became more fashionable, particularly in the United States. By the end of World War I, during which the breeding of sport dogs stopped became of food shortages during the war, the Irish red and white setters had declined to the point that a concerted effort had to be made to restore the breed.

The Website www.dogbreedinfo.com says the following about the Irish red and white setter:

Original Irish Setters were parti-colored, red and white. The solid red Irish Setters were rare. In about 1850 the red Irish Setter began to gain popularity. The parti-colored setter started its slow decline. The Red and White Irish Setters became nearly extinct except for the few enthusiasts who kept the breed alive. In the 1920's an attempt was made at the revival of the breed and it is from here that present owners can trace their pedigrees. In 1944 the  Irish Red and White Club was formed. In 1984 the National Irish Red and White Setter Club of America, Inc. was formed. The Irish Red and White Setter was first recognized by the AKC in 2006.

Anne Bailey, from Thatcham, England, writing in The Irish Decider Magazine, which is published by and for Irish red and white setter enthusiasts, contends the red and white came before the all-red Irish setters and lays out her research on the issue. The following is from Bailey’s article:

Colonel J K Millner in his book ‘The Irish Setter – Its History and its Training’ also makes reference to ‘the splendid red and white setters …’ [and] he describes how he has tried to discover the origin of the Irish setter, he writes, ‘ I have often tried to find out which, the red and whites or the reds, were the older breed, and as far as I can find out from the oldest breeders, viz., the late John King of Ballylin, the late Edward Evans of Gortmerron and the late Mr Tom Hendrick of Kerdiffstown, the two breeds were distinct in their time, but they all agree that in their early days the reds were inclined to throw pups with white on face, chest and feet, and that some breeders were greater offenders in this way than others.’

He continues to say, ‘From the above we can deduce either that the breeds were distinct and were sometimes crossed, or that the original breed was red and white in no fixed proportion of colour … The latter deduction I am inclined to favour, especially as we know the setter evolved from the spaniel and that white predominated in the early spaniels.’

Bailey’s article can be found (at least for the time being) at:
http://www.vci.net/~redwing/mag2.htm

The Irish Red and White Setter Association also has information on the breed:
http://www.irishredwhitesetterassociation.com/history.html
as does the Irish Red and White Setter Club: http://www.irishredandwhitesetterclub.org/

The American Kennel Club also believes the Irish red and white setter came before the solid colored ones: http://www.akc.org/breeds/irish_red_white_setter/history.cfm

I also found references that say both Irish setters are descendant from France, particularly Brittany spaniels. Here’s one explanation of that: https://retrieverman.wordpress.com/2008/09/04/irish-red-and-white-setter-likes-ducks/

So, the girl’s question to Maya maybe wasn’t so far off.
What kind of spaniel are you?

Dark encounter

Rainy day and I took Maya out—with a lot of prodding as she is skittish about water. I wanted to make sure she defecated because otherwise she has accidents in the house and she didn't go when she was out first thing this morning. Had that problem twice last week and I look at those as my fault for not giving her enough time to go. Maybe she needs to eat an earlier dinner and then she'll need to go in the morning.

Since we had also forgotten to take out the trash I hauled the two plastic barrels out front. When Maya heard the trash truck coming she wanted to investigate so I took her out. She didn't bark and was more intent on sniffing things. When the truck left, I picked up the lids and got the barrels ready to take out back and was looking down the street where the men were picking up other cans. Good thing I saw him coming. I'd have freaked if I'd turned around and been staring him in the face. I turned Maya toward our door and tried to head for it but he was there in the yard and Maya was turning to see him before I'd gotten but a couple of yards. She jumped back and then let out a bark. Both Maya and this charcoal gray great Dane went nose to nose, with Maya lowering, her tailing down and wagging.

The neighbor two houses down who owns the Dane was coming briskly up the street. The dogs continued to check each other out, and by the time the owner got to his dog I wasn't worried about them anyway. Maya wanted play with her new-found neighbor but I thought it best if I didn't encourage the Dane to come to our house—and besides it was raining.

Meche and her assistant, Gi, said they thought the Dane's name was "Goose."

Like the bird?

"Yeah, G-u-s ..."

Territorialism

Maya went on her second road trip on Saturday and learned a valuable lesson in territorialism.

After puppy class we came home and I let her play outside in the yard for a while before we headed to Connecticut for a picnic at my brother’s house. She got along well with his dog, a rescued beagle, but since both were tethered to long lines they kept getting tangled.

Then we went to R&B’s place and we met their dog, an absolutely beautiful Siberian husky that is the sweetest dog you could imagine. Stasha, the husky, welcomed Maya nicely and even got out some of her toys for Maya. Then the two played on the floor while I sat on the couch chatting with my old college roomy and his wife and boy, who is in late 20s. All was well, until we went out onto the desk to look at some work they’d been doing on the place. Maya decided she could probably get through the railing and started trying. I didn’t think she could. Duh! She made half a dozen tries and then wriggled through one! I headed for the gate and managed to grab her on the other side. Then R had to go make some nonchalant comment about just letting the two dogs play in the yard.

I let her go and go she went. Through the thicket of bamboo—why a Vietnam vet with a history of PTSD would lines his yard with bamboo I haven’t figured, though it is a great natural fence, just not at the one gap Maya bee-lined into. At first I was worried because the neighbor is a disagreeable misanthrope, but as Boy headed after Maya, taking Stasha along for help, I started hearing a lot of unfamiliar barking.

I went around the bamboo and headed uphill to the high end of the neighbor’s yard toward that of another neighbor where a woman was down on her knees holding back a big and rather annoyed dog that looked to be a sort of long-haired German shepherd. Maya was blithely trotting out from another part of that dog’s yard, although the two animals were separated by a fenced garden. I thought she was heading back to me, until Maya abruptly turned and headed straight for the snarling shepherd! Boy and I both started yelling, Maya! The look on the woman’s faced was like, ‘Oh, shit! Not good.’ Maya just has not known anything but other friendly pups that only want to play

I was imaging having to try to rescue her from that dog and wondering how badly she’d be hurt when realized what was happening. Finally. She bolted and headed back, head and tail down and her hackles standing straight up. She did take a quick look back at the other dog and then scooted over to me. I leashed her, tossed apologies over to the woman and brought Maya back to the house. We went in and Maya settled down protected between the couch and chair. Maya had gotten her first lesson in territorialism.

Yesterday, she was still nervous. I took her out to go for a walk, and rather than go in the car we started up the hill to walk around the neighborhood. She wasn’t any too happy about it and balked considerable, especially as we approached the house two doors up from us, where they also have a big shepherd that likes to bark down at us from time to time. Maya was certainly more alert on this roam about the neighborhood than usual and I had to push her on a bit keep her going sometime. She wasn’t tired, since she hadn’t been out much yesterday because of the rain. I think she would have been just as happy to have stayed safely at home.

Maya at daycare

In Putnam woods

From last week in the Putnam wood, me and Maya with my friend and his dog. Gotta do it again soon, though took a huge tick off Maya a couple of days later. Ugh! Awfully horrid creatures. They are a clear example of nature's mutant side. What earthly purpose except misery do they serve?

And today Maya made life more difficult by jumping the fence gate and bothering the neighbor, who was none too happy to bring her back. Unfortunately the gate is only three-feet high, or maybe a bit more, and she can get over it. Gotta fix that this weekend. Neighbor says do invisible fencing, but I think just a higher add on to the gate area will be find. I don't want to be shocking Maya when the yard is pretty much fenced anyway.

She was zonked tonight and didn't even look for supper. Hummm ... hope she's OK in the morning.

Treking with Kobu

Fantastic day. Went to Putnam and treked in the state park with my buddy David and his dog Kobu. David lives on a road the runs into the park, reverting to a very rocky dirt road only three houses up from his. The park has great stone walls and other rock ruins. Because Putman is very rocky and hilly, the area was abandoned of farming long before other areas and these walls and rock foundations have to date to th mid-19th century or earlier, when folks from the Northeast moved to the Midwest for flat farmland.

We did a nice three-mile walk, basically following the dirt road, but diverting for a bit along an area that was once pasture land, divided by beautiful stone walls. I let Maya off her leash as soon as we were a little ways into the dirt road and she had a great time with Kobu, though the playing got a bit rough at times. Maya's paw was bleeding for a bit but I couldn't see anything really wrong with it and it seems fine now, as we sit in Dave's house, the dogs running around the house free and the kids—his three kids and his two nieces, the youngest being 2 and a half year old Samantha—playing with the dogs as if they were just a couple more kids. Now the dogs are tussling pretty rowdily!  What a life: kids playing, the dogs playing and us sitting here drinking Powers whiskey! Could it get any better? Yeah. Food's ready!

Other walkers

With the kids out of school for Holy Week and the day care only partially full, Meche had time to walk Maya this week. She took her to the lake preserve that Maya and I have explored so much--not the ridge preserve where she picked up ticks. Meche, Maya and half a dozen day care kids. Have to give my wife a lot of credit on that one! I don't think I'd have dared.

Then after work I make her fetch a ball in the back yard--Maya, that is, not Meche. But the dog, who's now four months old, is a stinker and likes to tear after the ball, but then plays games about giving it back. I think I need training on how to get her to behave and bring back the ball and obey the release command.

No ticks this week, and she's settling down a bit. She'll happily gnaw away on a chew and keep us company, although she can still get crazy, like tonight when two of Abby's friends came by unexpectedly as we were watching Survivor. We had to put Maya upstairs because she went crazy and was climbing all over the two boys as they tried to sit on the couch. Hummm... set her on boys who come to visit my almost-15-year-old Fionna? Sounds like a plan.

Ticks and fences

Maya hasn’t gotten many walks in this week, since I finished fencing in the yard last weekend. I ran some green plastic-coated fence through and behind the large forsythia that runs along part of the yard. The other parts of the yard are enclosed with a four-foot chain-link fence and my other neighbor’s hedgerow of arborvitae, before which Meche put a three-foot plastic fence that stops the kids—and now Maya—from getting through.

The dog is thoroughly enjoying her freedom in the yard and runs like a demon around and across the yard. We’ve only a quarter-acre lot so it’s not huge, but it is sufficient to give her space to dash. I’ve spent a fair amount of time tossing a green tennis ball for her to chase.

We’re going for a walk in a little while, but not where I had been going the week before last, when I was exploring a place called Sunny Ridge Preserve. The place was fascinating with all sort of stonework, including a high stone dam in a narrow trough in the rock through which a stream runs. The preserve is supposed to offer a great view from the ridge, though Maya was never willing to keep going to get there since the trail climbs steeply to get there. The area is pretty rough, with lots of downed trees and tangles of shrubs. I want to research what the area was used for and will have to check out the Web on it. But for now I’m turned off to going there because last week I took six ugly gray, apple-seed sized ticks off of Maya, and one off of me! I still have welt under my arm from the nasty thing. Maybe I’m maligning the preserve but I feel that’s where we picked them up. I’ve never found such nasty creatures in my yard, although I know they could be there. I’d love to explore that area more but right now I’ve developed an aversion to the place. It’s got a highly negative yuck factor to it now.

Fortunately, I’ve given Maya a treatment for ticks and fleas and the ticks I took offer her appeared to be dead. I didn’t realize the treatment doesn’t stop ticks from latching on, but it kills them once they do!

Now, it’s a sunny spring day, so I’ll head out with the dog. The back yard is nice but this dog is meant for walking.

Too much too soon

Oh, God, I might be walking my dog too much. That’s according to the trainer. I said I was walking her a lot, like three-mile hikes in the afternoons, and sometimes a neighborhood jaunt in the mornings. He said she was still, at three and a half months, just a baby and I had to be careful not to wear out her joints while they are still developing. And running her isn’t too cool.

Damn. I don’t want to hurt her. Maybe I should just suspend this blog til she’s a year old and ready to tear. But I asked the vet’s assistant the other day—before I’d spoken to the trainer—and she said as long as the dog was up for it, that was okay. I’ll talk to the vet on Friday.

Nonetheless, Maya definitely seems to want to walk. And even after being told Saturday that I was walking her too much, I could tell that Sunday she wanted go get out—well, so did I. So we did the smaller hike around the lake, taking a sidetrack that’s supposed to be a shortcut but I didn’t have my Nike Plus with me so I couldn’t confirm that. We were gone an hour, though I didn’t push her as I’ve been doing. I gave her more time to snuffle thing out. That was also a recommendation of the trainer—not to worry about making her heel. She’s too little yet for that training and wolves in the wild don’t necessarily follow the leader but do obey the leader. Still, a couple sites I’ve read emphasized the importance of this with setters. Ugh! Que hago?

Today and yesterday we did just walks around the block, today around here and yesterday around the high school after she wouldn’t settle down enough to let me watch Fionna’s lacrosse game. The thing is Maya thinks everyone in the world wants to stop and pet her and tell her she’s a sweet, beautiful dog. She craves attention. Ha, great insight! That’s a dog.

One thing, though, Maya is great for hiking. We spooked a few deer the other day and she froze and the deer froze and we all just stood there in clear view of each other for minutes, nobody moving. Then the deer snorted and pranced parallel to us and stopped again and still Maya kept quite and just tracked her. THEN she got bore and sat down! But she never barked. She's great that way. We hear something in the woods and she stops and is completely silent. Bird dog. Hey, that's be a great way to see those ground bird that are so hard to spot. Have her flush 'em! Can’t image that’s too kosher in the birding world, but it’s not killing them. Anyway, I think Maya is way cool being quiet that way.

Settling on a red and white

Walked Maya in the rain. It wasn’t a downpour, but a light steady rain with the temperature about 40 F., more Irish weather for this four-legged descendant of that misty green isle. We did the lake loop, which is only a mile and a half, and today it was brisk. We ran in spurts totaling about a third of the distance and took only 32 minutes to do the whole walk. When the kids were little we’d take two hours to do that walk, giving plenty of time for rock scrambling, exploring old stone walls and foundations and, of course, rests. Now, I can’t get them to even walk the dog with me.

Getting this dog wasn’t my idea, but the breed was. When Meche and the kids started abogando for a dog, I was pretty resistant. We had two cats that were pretty old, one about 20 years old that I inherited and the other that was 16 years old that we got as soon as we had our first apartment. I’d promised the girls we’d get a dog when our old cats died, but when both passed away last year the reality of a dog seemed like just too much commitment. Then four mouths after the last cat died, Fionna brought home a box of four kittens. We ended up keeping two, although I’d have kept them all if pushed. My sister-in-law took the other two. It was amazing how quickly we became attached to those kittens.

I tried using the argument that we now had two more cats to counter the pro-dog faction—which was everyone else in the house. I sort of won, but I could tell that Molly, our youngest at 11, was extremely disappointed. I think she chalked it up to “parents don’t keep promises.” So I started researching dog breeds and we visited the SPCA shelter. A rescue didn’t seem like the best idea because of Meche’s day care, which is housed in our walkout basement. Even the guy in charge of rescues at the shelter confirmed that, saying, “I can test them for food aggression; I can test them for how they get along with other dogs; I can test them for how they get along with cats. But I don’t have test kids.” Once it was decided to get a puppy, I felt we should choose a breed with known characteristics. Look, some breeds are just not the best with little children.

At first I wanted something that didn’t shed, but nothing that came up in the web sites that help you pick a dog breed went over with anyone else in the family. I’d seen cockapoos and labradoodles and both seemed like lovely dogs, though I’d heard they were being bred indiscriminately and often from poor stock. With no one else concerned about shedding, I dropped that criteria and focused on how well they got along with children and other pets and how affectionate they were. Setters, spaniels and retrievers generally came out on top. Their drawback was … especially setters and spaniels … they’re high-energy dogs! I’d always thought I’d like an Irish setter because of their beautiful color and healthy lean look. So I checked out a breeder I found online. But when I raised the idea to Molly, she noted it was a pretty big dog, with females weighing in at about 60 pounds and 25 inches at the shoulder, and she wasn’t sure she could control it. Anyway the breeder didn’t have any females anyway. But then the breeder emailed me to say she had a couple of red and white Irish setter females and that they where field bred and smaller than the reds. She said the females only get to 40 pounds and are about 22 inches at the shoulders. After looking up “field bred” and researching red and whites, which I’d never heard of before, I tossed out the idea. More resistance! Fionna wanted a Siberian husky and Molly a border collie! More research. Neither scored as well as setters, particularly the collies, which are off the charts on energy and exercise needs and really low on getting along with children. Huskies fared better but clearly could be problematic, and didn’t rate well with other animals.

In the end Meche said I needed to decide. To test things out, I lied and told the kids I’d already ordered the dog. Fionna flipped and felt I had no right to do that without consulting the family (read, without her permission!), but Molly reminded her big sister that dad would end up being the one to take care of the dog the most. Meche reminded Fionna about bringing home a box of kittens without consulting anyone. After I showed them a picture the breeder had sent me of the pups at four weeks old everyone was sold! Then I had to check back and make sure the breeder still had the red and white females. (I forgot all about my aversion to white dogs that shed.) The rest is history. Except the name and that they tricked me on!

Now, on that “field bred” point, this is from dogbreedinfo.com about red and white Irish setters: “There are two types, field lines and show lines (bench). Field types are bred for hunting and field trial work and are generally somewhat smaller with shorter coats. The bench type are bred for conformation shows. Both types are energetic and need daily exercise, but field lines have a higher energy level and need even more exercise.”

Thus the name of this blog: Walkin’ Maya.

A setter day

I continue to walk Maya. As we started this morning it seemed like the perfect day to take an Irish setter walking. The air held a faint mist and the sky was pallid. The temperature was barely above 40 degrees Fahrenheit. It was easy to imagine us in County Clare roaming some bog. At first Maya seemed a little cold and I felt a bit guilty in my dual-layered jacket, but she was fine once we started. It was the ideal temperature for a brisk walk.

The only thing was our pace wasn’t so brisk. We covered the same route as yesterday, but reversed it. The trail leads around the side of the lake near the road, then skirts the hill and later descends to the wetlands, where the pointed, purple-streaked skunk cabbage domes were coming up.

Giving Maya more than the usual time to explore, it took us an hour and a quarter to walk three miles. I’m wondering if I’m not pushing her a bit with such long walks. She’s only three and a half months old, but she seems to manage fine. We had the place completely to ourselves and met no one save a few squirrels and then some deer that took off from us when we explored and old road that imagine led between the rocky fields when the land was farmed.

With these walks that I’m able to give her this week, since I’ve taken a few days off from work, Maya crashes fairly early, curling up tonight on the basement couch with us as we watched Survivor, which we recorded last night. All I have to do is roust her and take her out to pee quickly and then she goes into her crate a tuckered out and contented pup.

Of senses and coyotes

I continue to walk Maya a couple times a day. Some times she's fine with it, though yesterday she refused to wander into a woods with me at the reserve. It was late almost 7 pm and she seemed scared. I have to admit, it seemed kind of smooky heading down the trail with the sun setting and the forest around the lake to our left darkening. Maya clearly didn't want to continue, so I stopped and let her decide where she wanted to go. She turned around and started running, so I ran with her. She headed right back to the car, getting a second scare when a good-sized bulldog got out of a vehicle that had pulled up beside mine.

Today, I walked her there again without problem, though it was an hour earlier and not so forboding, We walk the trails least used by most people who go there, turning away from the lake at the dam and heading down into a swamp area below the tiny spillway from which the brook that feeds the lake on the far side continues. It's quiet and we rarely meet anyone. However, a sign at the parking lot warns people to keep their dogs on a leash because of coyotes in the area. I wonder what Maya smells or senses. Maybe she was just tired yesterday, or maybe she knew better than to continue. She is a smart puppy after all.

The other day I walked Maya twice and I think I wore her out, but her reaction wasn't what I expected. I forgot about restless spirit.
Maya is my dog—er, I should say puppy, as she's only three months old. Maya is red and white Irish setter. She was born in Kentucky on Dec. 17 and came to us via American Airlines special cargo on Feb. 21.

She might look dulce, but she's a terror with vampire-sharp teeth. And apparently giving her plenty of exercise, two walks a day, is supposed to be keep her calm. It was the opposite! In the morning we walked to the park, with me keeping to my left and close by, trying to make her heel and walk either beside me or behind me for 50 minutes. She did well. Then in the afternoon we took another brisk walk for an hour. We walked up the hill and into some fields near some woods. The ground was pretty wet and the grass from last year thick and uneven.

I think it was all too much for Maya. She didn't seem too happy on the way down the hill, and tried to give up but I kept her moving. When we got home, she started running around like crazy, attacking a couch cushion and running with it. At one point she started pulling on my sleeve and really gripped onto my elbow. It hurt and I had to put her in time out—we have a blocked off area on the stairwell that keeps her out of trouble and safe. And later, she knocked over my glass of Guinness and crapped in the stairway.

When I finally put her in her crate she crashed and didn't even wake up when the girls came home! So, the walks worked, in part.

The next day I went to her puppy training. I felt like a parent who can't wait to consult with the teacher about an unruly child! The trainer knew the problem immediately: restless spirit.

Restless spirit, if I understand it correctly, is what the dog longs to do because of it’s breeding.  A herding dog want to herd, a retriever wants to retrieve, a guard dog want to protect.

Maya is field bred, meaning she was bred to do what Irish setters were developed to do: flush game bird. She’s essentially a hunter and needs to play at that. Maya was tired but still restless for the hunt.