Slower going

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 ...

Pooches of Nepal

Dogs are everywhere in Nepal, wandering city streets and village lanes, sleeping on doorsteps or in the middle of sidewalks, and barking from porches and crop terraces, none of which is all that unusual for many parts of the world, but what struck me most was their presence at both Hindu and Buddhist shrines, temples and monasteries.

At Bodhnath, Asia's largest Buddhist stupa, a type of shrine.

So, obviously, I would have spent the last two weeks there taking a few shots for this dog blog. Okay, it’s not walking Maya but it was walking around Kathmandu and on a three-day hike north of the city on part of what’s called the Helambu trek.

Focusing on dogs is not meant to diminish the human dimension of Nepal. It is one of the poorest countries in the world, and while it is famous for mountain climbing and spiritual pilgrimage, it is in many ways an isolated nation beset with large ethnic, cultural and linguistic differences, religiously inculcated class distinctions, and political instability. It sits buffer-like between two Asian and global powers, India and China, and depending on whether you are with Brahmins and Chhetris castes or Sherpas and Tibetans it can seem more like one than the other. Until only a few years ago it was ruled as a monarchy and has now slid into a form of lingering disfunctualism as a Maoist transition government holds onto power by endlessly delaying the task of writing a new constitution. It's important for me to say, though, that the people of Nepal are among the loveliest people in both manner and aspect that I have encountered anywhere in my travels. Circumstances in the country are very difficult but the people are its treasure, as trite as that may sound.

At a village in Helambu area north of Kathmandu.

In Nepal I took almost two hundred photos of dogs, and while that includes many duplicates, I could easily have doubled that amount with fewer shots of the same ones. After a while I couldn’t see the point of endless shots of sleeping dogs—besides a couple of times they awoke to catch me me stealing their images, weren’t pleased and sent me scampering out of the way of gnashing and snapping teeth. I also skipped shots of a lot of very mangy dogs because that was just depressing. Organizations can be found on the Web that work to help and rescue street dogs in Nepal.

I’d hoped on the trek to see a few of those Himalayan mastiffs—or they might be called Tibetan mastiffs, not sure—but most of what was there appeared primarily to be mutts. The Nepali people seems pretty tolerant of them, and one friend told me it was because in the reincarnation beliefs of Hindus and Buddhists dogs are thought to be close to humans on their graduated living-spiritual journeys, not necessarily sacred like cows are to Hindus but to be shown respect or at least left alone. Again, I'm not an expert here, so I'm not making claims to getting this exactly right.

Two live dogs at Kathmandu's hilltop Swayambhunath, a Buddhist stupa also called the monkey temple, join their stone guardian counterpart, which I believe is the lion-dog figure, common at Buddhist sites.

Apparently, dogs are also considered guardians of the gates to Heaven and Hell and there are various references to dogs among the Hindu pantheon. Only once did I see someone be aggressive toward one of these temple guardians, and that wasn't all that severe, just a matter-of-fact little toe kick to get it out from under foot. In November, there is even a special day for dogs. This is from Wikipedia about the five-day Tihar festival: The second day is called Kukur Tihar or Kukur Puja (worship of the dogs). Dog, which is believed to be messenger of Lord Yamaraj, the God of death, is worshiped once a year on this day, and people offer garlands, tika and delicious food to the dogs, and acknowledge the cherished relationship between humans and the dogs.

As for the Buddhists, I read elsewhere that killing animals, particularly dogs, is a sin in Tibetan Buddhism, the main form practiced in Nepal, and that is another reason why there are so many stay dogs in cities and villages and around the shrines, temples and monasteries.

I took pictures, but didn't make any effort to engage the dogs. Rabies is not uncommon there, and although I've had my shots for it, I've no interest in going through the booster treatment. And besides rabies, a bite could nonetheless lead to a serious infection. A friend here in the states—a veterinarian—got a vicious infection from a dog bite working in a vet hospital and ended up hospitalized twice and losing flexibility in half of her hand, and this is professional who got quick treatment and knew what was going on!

  

I had hoped to post to this blog from Nepal but time constraints made it pretty difficult to find space enough to devote to it, and besides the Internet connection at the hotel was very spotty. Next time I’ll get my iPhone unlocked, replace the SIM card and tether it to my laptop as a wi-fi device. Duh! A friend who arrived the last week in Nepal did that and had great service at a very reasonable price. On the other hand, not being tethered to the Net wasn’t so bad either. So, I started this blog on the plane flying back. With a four-hour flight from Kathmandu to Dubai, a four-hour layover and then a 12-hour flight from Dubai to JFK, I got a jump on the jet lag that always follows trips to Asia. I haven't been to Asia in three years, but I usually spend the first week afterward walking around like a zombie—sleepy and spacey in the day and restless at night. So if the reader encounters more than my usual share of typos, perdoname.

And back to the namesake of this blog, Maya, several people in Nepal commented (when conversation led to personal/family story) about her name being a common Nepali (and Indian) name, so maybe there's a Maya among these pictures anyway.

Namaste.*

* Napali greeting that translates roughly, "I greet the divine in you," or maybe, "The divine spirit in me greets the divine spirit in you." It's a recognition that we all share in the spirit of God.

At Hindu shrine in Kathmandu's Durbar Square.

Kathmandu street sweeper lets sleeping dog lie.

At Bodhnath stupa in town of Boudhanath where many Tibetan refugees gather around this major Buddhista shrine.

At Bodhnath, a dog joins worshipers at pooja (prayer).

At Swayambhunath

At Bodhnath

At Bodhnath

At Kopan, an important Tibetan Buddhist monastery near Bodhnath.

While on Helambu trek.

Girl with her dog, Rocky, in highland village just outside Nepal's Langtang National Park.

Sunning in highland village.

A canine resident accompanies us for a while on our way out of mountain village.

  

Training and trail mutiny

A couple of weeks ago Maya and I returned to dog training. She remembered what she was supposed to do, as if she's only had a short hiatus rather than an eight-month break. Chris, one of the lead trainers, commented as much, that Maya remembered a lot, as we were leaving the first time back. Last weekend she likewise did very well, though her owner got called out for giving lousy direction and no positive feedback during a practice at heeling. Hey, she knew what she was doing and I was just showing her off.

It's a good time to go back to training because we're picking up in a phase II class right about where she was when she got hurt. She's got to master this heeling thing a little better (or, more correctly, I guess, I do) and then also understand and obey the "place" command. That is, go to a "place" such as her cushion and stay there! She's got no reason to complain about that. She's got a more comfy spot than half the places to sit in this house. My sister-in-law gave me two cushions off a couch she was tossing and they're perfect for Maya. They provide a lot more support than typical doggie beds you'd find in pet stores. Of course, just to spoil her, as if we didn't enough, I put her fluffy, but thin dog bed on top of her couch cushion. Heard no complaints.

Sacked out after a forced march on the mountain.

Since Christmas break, Maya and I have made multiple forays onto the mountain, and unfortunately, she is either getting tired of that place or of our walks. The first indication she was not interested in even heading up the mountain was on Epiphany Sunday in the afternoon when we headed out for our usual hike there. Just in from the parking lot, she tried mutiny, bolting back to the car after I let her off leash. She's never done that before, and of course she ran to the parking area, only a dirt patch just big enough for three or four cars off the road. Even though I called her, she ignored me and I lost sight of her briefly after she cleared the trail. I found her near the door of the minivan wanting to get back in. This was a dilemma since I want to be aware of what she's communicating to me, but on the other hand, who's calling the shots here? I'd been walking her off leash regularly and was able to squeeze in five hikes of two to four miles each during Christmas week. Some she seemed to enjoy and others she was tired before we were done.

Yesterday, she staged a repeat rebellion, dashing back to the car, even though another dog was heading onto the trail at the same time as we were. I had to get her and walk her well into the woods, past some thickets that form a barrier between the trail head/parking lot and the park. Once off-leash she could have followed the path back but hasn't so far. I don't know what's up with her. Yesterday she was practically trying to crawl herself back to the car. I'm sure the only reason I got her to even start walking with me was because I had a training collar on her so pulling was uncomfortable. Once we started walking, though, she did fine and it was such a beautifully warm day that it couldn't have been the weather that was the problem. We did 3.3 miles. When I put her leash back on she again pulled like her life depended on getting out of there. I'm going to give the mountain a break and see how she reacts to some other places. Maybe because of her leg long walks are uncomfortable and she knows the mountain often entails one.

Who's tracks are these?

Two months have gone by without me posting anything about Maya, and in a way there isn't anything new to say from the last post in October. She continues to progress, but basically still favors her damaged leg an awful lot. If I walk her on leash she's pretty good about using it and walking on four legs, but when she's running around the yard or in the woods she's very protective of it. I figure that's good. She knows it's vulnerable and she is taking care of it. I also think it slows her down, so when she's running free she just gets along faster on three legs, though there's also times when she is running and it appears both back legs are in play. I'd probably need to film her a while and analyze her strides, though realistically I'm not going to do that.

If anything Maya has slowed some, which in most dogs would be expected at about two years old, which Maya is as of Dec. 18. Since Maya is an Irish setter, and typically they have a longer adolescence, I suspect her injury and long convalescence are probably more to blame. She tends to stay close to me, though not exclusively, and she's definitely more nervous, both when she's out and when she's surprised at home. She barks a lot more than she did before and is less friendly with people coming into the house, though sometimes it's hard to tell if she's just ecstatic about seeing someone or concerned.

Dog or coyote tracks?

Friday we went to the mountain but got out late for this deep into winter. It was 3:40 pm when we started out on the trail and Maya was none too happy about it. She was OK for the first 15 minutes, but then began to hang back. After taking a side loop we got back to the main trail and she stopped—facing in the direction to go back to the car. I ignored her and headed farther up the trail. She joined me but kept along side me, stopping from time to time. Once she let me get way ahead and around a bend and only came when I finally stopped and called her. This is the same place where Maya has been spooked before, particularly around dusk, which it was. I also came across some tracks that I wasn't sure if they were a dog's or maybe coyote paw prints. They merged with the main trail and all I knew was Maya didn't want to be there. I stopped and tried to listen. I heard lots of sounds off in the wind that I couldn't discern. Maya with her dog senses was surely hearing and smelling more than I. So, only a half hour into the hike, we turned around and headed back. Maya was very happy. She stuck with me but was definitely on a mission: get out of there! Walking back was heading west so the sunset was lovely—and the woods of course were "lovely, dark and deep."

It was a 45 minute walk across a crusty inch of snow and it was enough. Maya sacked out as soon as we got home. She had to be called for dinner. Yesterday we got another two to three inches of snow and we'll try another jaunt in a little while. The sun is out, though it's still slightly below freezing. The cold's gotta be tough on that leg, so I'll watch her carefully. Maybe the other day it was just too damn cold and windy for a smart dog.

Afoot again

After more than six months, Maya is out of a bandage and beginning to return to her old life, as much as she can anyway. In the photo, she's got all four paws planted on the ground and while she continues to baby her damaged leg a lot, especially around the house, she is using it more and more on walks. Tonight she was using it consistently on our walk around the neighborhood, the best she's done in the week and a half since she got her bandage off.

On Monday, I let her off leash on the mountain for part of our three-mile hike. Initially I kept her on leash so I could let her pull uphill and thereby force her to use her injured leg. Then I let her go on flatter terrain. Until tonight she tended to resist using her injured leg on the initial part of our walks, but after 15 or 20 minutes she would get used to it and start walking sort of normal with it. Let's hope tonight is a real turning point.

Her vets have indicated she should pretty much regain use of it, except she can't bend the ankle. So, we'll proceed working her leg and hoping eventually she'll have sufficient strength so that it really supports her. Now, it's almost more for balance than her putting any real pressure on it. On our walk Monday, she took a spill making a turn at a run when apparently she inadvertently relied on the weak leg too much. I think she needs to learn what she can do and can't.

Still waiting for her hair to grow out over where she was shaved for surgery, but all and all for what she's been through, she's looking pretty good.

Comfry compensations

I've stopped putting Maya into her crate at night. It's just too small for her now that she's wearing that big plastic cone on her head again after her latest surgery—and she's definitely entitled to some creature comfort. Her preference is the futon couch in the TV room. Her crate's in there anyway so it's sort of "her room."

After: The pin

Before: Plate with screws.

Last Thursday the poor girl went in for another procedure on her leg, this time to take out the metal plate that was supposed to remain in to help support the fused ankle. But the wound just wouldn't heal and kept opening. If I understand it clearly, it's her long, narrow legs, which aren't all that meaty to begin with and then she lost a good bit of muscle and tendons when she was hit. The hospital vet said he could try closing the wound again, but wasn't optimistic since it has failed to heal over twice now. Instead he removed the plate and those huge screws and put a large pin down the bone to give it some reinforcement. It's ghastly to look at in the X-rays and was even more so when the vet described inserting it from Maya's knee down to her ankle. The good thing is that now the wound should heal over just as it did right after the accident. He also said the bone will continue to build up and strengthen as she grows, since bone will reinforce where there is stress (Wolff's law, he says). That would be good since I worry about her over-exerting herself when she's better and doing what she loves best, running free through the woods. I have to say the vet, who—according to our regular local vet—is one of the best in this area of animal orthopedics, has been very caring and generous with Maya, comping her stay during our vacation and now not charging to remove the plate and put in the pin. His compassion for Maya is obvious, as it is with all the staff at the hospital. The vet's assistant always boasts about Maya being their best patient, always behaving herself and as docile as can be. Smart of her to ingratiate herself with the staff and fortunate for us that she's so little trouble for them!

I'm not sure how long it will take before she starts putting pressure on her leg again, but I'm letting her baby it all she wants for now. Letting her sleep outside of her crate is part of that babying. If she wants to curl up on the TV room couch, where she can stretch full out, roll over on her back and just plain sack out free and comfy, I figure it's the least I can do for her—along with the tramadol she gets at night to help ensure her a painless night. She's not getting TV privileges though.

This is been an ordeal for Maya, but her spirit is good and she's actually bounding back with a fair bit of energy. The other evening, Meche and I took Maya out for a short walk and got caught in a sudden downpour. Maya left no doubt that she preferred to get home quickly and was grabbing the leash in her mouth and pulling me. I didn't really want her running but she wasn't using the leg at all so I don't think it was much of a problem. She's always been a wimp in the rain. I know, it doesn't make sense for an Irish setter to have issues with rain. Just like with the kids, I'm going to have to start emphasizing more the Irish heritage of this family! No more Spanish and everyone's going to have to learn Irish—including Maya. In Spanish, dogs don't go "bow-wow" or "ruff-ruff" but more like "wow, wow" but spelled I think like "guau guau." I wonder what the onomatopoeic word for dog barking is in Gaelic?

Stiltgrass and high steppin'

Sometimes I feel like it's one step forward and two steps back with this dog.  A couple of weeks ago Maya was truckin' along using her damaged foot and generally making great progress after three weeks in the hospital with the best of attention and physical therapy while we were in Peru.

Then, from one day to the next she stopped using her leg. It seems she irritated her paw by gnawing on her nails, so, I guess like cutting a nail too short or maybe breaking one off, she didn't want to use it. The first week was pure setback. Then last Friday the vet left her foot uncovered to allow the irritated paw to air and cure itself, but in the time it took me to drop her off at the house and head to the office, she managed to rip into her bandage and bleed all over the place—despite wearing a big cone-shaped collar on her head! We had to rush her to the local vet and get her bandaged up again. This week she's been out of her cone hat only to go for walks and occasionally to eat.

Today, finally, she showed signs of getting better. I took her up the mountain—the second time this week—and by taking the hilliest route forced her to drop the leg now and then. At one point, on a soft, flat stretch, she voluntarily dropped it for four or five steps and did that two or three times during our ascent. As reward I let her run free for the walk back down, and in total we covered 2.35 miles. She was in her glory while free and even occasionally seemed to let her damaged leg hit the ground, though it was a bit hard to see for sure. Anyway, she didn't let it deter her from enjoying a romp through the woods.

This was the second time this week I've taken her to the mountain. Sunday, while Meche and the kids were at the beach, Maya and I went for a hike. We met a guy with a Brittany spaniel and I unleashed Maya so she wouldn't be disadvantaged. They ran around for a while but since the Brittany was a roamer—and had a small cowbell on her collar and a GPS tracker—she and Maya didn't spend too long together. Maya's good at coming back and even though the Brittany took off and was out of hearing range for a good while, Maya stayed obediently close by. Good girl.

I'm pretty sure this is Japanese stiltgrass.

Maya in stiltgrass.

From the Brittany's owner I learned about Japanese stiltgrass. Bummer. That lovely, bright green, feathery looking grass I've been seeing on the mountain is an immigrant! Damn. Apparently it came in during the early part of the 20th century packed around pottery from China! As I walked today, it really changed my perspective. I've always liked that the mountain is so obviously old farmland. I can easily imagine someone moving their dairy cattle
up and down the slopes to different pastures during the year. And this being an old settled area of the country, it has been farmed since well before the American Revolution.

Yet, who am I to be prejudice? We're all invasive species, no? Even the Native Americans can't really claim they are completely original to the area, and are descendant from early invaders traveling the Bering land bridge. Migration is the story of humanity. Still, I understand whitetail deer won't eat stiltgrass, so it is taking over and displacing other "native" grasses. Hummm ... and then how long have some of the other grasses and such been here?

Worst yet, I recognized it immediately as the same thing cropping up in my front yard. The good thing is it rips up easily.

Stiltgrass or no, it's great to be getting Maya out on the trail again.