I'm taking it easier on Maya in our walks these days, letting my reading of her set our limit. It has taken me a while to get a sense of her abilities with her repaired leg and sometimes the winter was rough on her. Before I went to Nepal in late February we were struggling with her because she was irritating her leg by licking it. She seemed insistent on doing so and had worn it raw. Putting antibacterial ointment on it seemed to help but barely, even with foul tasting gel meant to keep her from licking. Then I went away for two weeks and she stopped licking the hairless scar area and it got better, just plain pink skin.
Meche's theory is that since no one walked Maya while I was away, the leg stopped bothering her and she stopped licking at it. Well, she could have a point. When I wasn't home they simply let her run around the backyard when she needed or wanted to go out, particularly for an hour or two in the afternoons when the daycare urchins are asleep, and the leg problem healed.
Of course, I resumed our routine. Even though it snowed just before I got home and even the week after, if I recall now. I had to admit she tended to favor the hurt leg when was cold and was more prone to falling. One time a couple weeks ago, she took a terrible dive while straying off trail and perhaps thinking she was a full-fledged quadruped again. Then she limped back to the car, holding her leg up and askew so that I was afraid she'd re-injured it. Once home, she seemed to get over the discomfort and started walking on it again. So I cut back, not taking her out if it was too cold or wet and when we do go out, I've been keeping our jaunts shorter.
With the weather warming—albeit a bit brisk some mornings—Maya is doing very well and this past week hasn't appeared particularly protective or conscious of her leg. It could be that the cold just gets to her. After all, she has a pin from her knee to her erstwhile ankle. Come on! Even the baby finger I broke in high school still reacts sometimes to certain raw weather. I've mentioned before the idea of getting her booties. Now I'm looking for them, though I found one thing on line that might be better: an insulated wrap with straps and velcro just for rehabilitating injured legs. That might be an option, or very high, tough booties. I don't think I need them right now but definitely well before next winter.
The other day we went out for only 1.8 miles, just shy of an hour, as I let her pretty much determine when she was done. We'd walked a mile up the mountain to the cross trail. From there either going straight or taking the left route leads to the peak and the right one loops southwest and then reconnects to the main trail. I took the right branch, but Maya wanted to turn around and head back to the car. She soon started tracking back toward the main trail—basically saying, "Hello? This way." I cut back through the woods and quickly rejoined the main route and Maya couldn't have been happier. She headed down that trail with homing-like enthusiasm.
I did detour her ever so slightly toward the end of the hike. She stood on the main trail and watched me—exasperated—as I headed off on a windy bicycle path into a stand of trees. Then she joined me. I have to admit she's really good that way. She regularly stops at trail crosses or forks or where side trails veer off and waits to see which way I'm going. All I have to do sometimes is point in the direction I'm going to take and she heads off. Hey, she's leading.
It amazes me how she stops, looks and then follows my directions—unless she disagrees. Like that detour the other day, when she just looked at me like, "Duh! What's this crap?" Thank goodness for limited short-term memory because as soon as she refocused (perhaps resigned herself), she set off ahead to lead the way back to the car again. Me, my dog and an infinite loop. Duh! What's this ...
Meche's theory is that since no one walked Maya while I was away, the leg stopped bothering her and she stopped licking at it. Well, she could have a point. When I wasn't home they simply let her run around the backyard when she needed or wanted to go out, particularly for an hour or two in the afternoons when the daycare urchins are asleep, and the leg problem healed.
Of course, I resumed our routine. Even though it snowed just before I got home and even the week after, if I recall now. I had to admit she tended to favor the hurt leg when was cold and was more prone to falling. One time a couple weeks ago, she took a terrible dive while straying off trail and perhaps thinking she was a full-fledged quadruped again. Then she limped back to the car, holding her leg up and askew so that I was afraid she'd re-injured it. Once home, she seemed to get over the discomfort and started walking on it again. So I cut back, not taking her out if it was too cold or wet and when we do go out, I've been keeping our jaunts shorter.
With the weather warming—albeit a bit brisk some mornings—Maya is doing very well and this past week hasn't appeared particularly protective or conscious of her leg. It could be that the cold just gets to her. After all, she has a pin from her knee to her erstwhile ankle. Come on! Even the baby finger I broke in high school still reacts sometimes to certain raw weather. I've mentioned before the idea of getting her booties. Now I'm looking for them, though I found one thing on line that might be better: an insulated wrap with straps and velcro just for rehabilitating injured legs. That might be an option, or very high, tough booties. I don't think I need them right now but definitely well before next winter.
The other day we went out for only 1.8 miles, just shy of an hour, as I let her pretty much determine when she was done. We'd walked a mile up the mountain to the cross trail. From there either going straight or taking the left route leads to the peak and the right one loops southwest and then reconnects to the main trail. I took the right branch, but Maya wanted to turn around and head back to the car. She soon started tracking back toward the main trail—basically saying, "Hello? This way." I cut back through the woods and quickly rejoined the main route and Maya couldn't have been happier. She headed down that trail with homing-like enthusiasm.
I did detour her ever so slightly toward the end of the hike. She stood on the main trail and watched me—exasperated—as I headed off on a windy bicycle path into a stand of trees. Then she joined me. I have to admit she's really good that way. She regularly stops at trail crosses or forks or where side trails veer off and waits to see which way I'm going. All I have to do sometimes is point in the direction I'm going to take and she heads off. Hey, she's leading.
It amazes me how she stops, looks and then follows my directions—unless she disagrees. Like that detour the other day, when she just looked at me like, "Duh! What's this crap?" Thank goodness for limited short-term memory because as soon as she refocused (perhaps resigned herself), she set off ahead to lead the way back to the car again. Me, my dog and an infinite loop. Duh! What's this ...
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