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.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
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.
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.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
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.
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.
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