August 10, 2008 - Cow Pies, Wayward Transients, and Mouse Breath

Several students and I decided to head to the instructor's ranch to work our dogs. The ranch has tons of acreage where we can do field searches, tracking, practice schutzhund work, and swim our dogs.

Aside from from the party we had during the first week of class, this is my first time out to the ranch. I came armed with the electric collar, ready to give Mika an avoidance correction for trying to eat one of the many cow pies scattered around the fields. We were warned by our instructors that once a dog got a taste for those sweet gooey mounds of poo, our dogs would be ruined; they'd never focus on working when so many delectable cow pies to feast upon. I laid in wait with my finger on the e-collar remote, ready to give the highest avoidance level correction Mika had ever received.

At first she seemed immune to the cow patties--they were nothing more than dirt on the landscape--but then we happened across a fresh, warm, shiny pile. She put her nose to the pile and just as she began to sink her teeth................ZAP! Mika jumped and squealed. Cow pies are BAD!!!!!

From there on it was smooth sailing. She walked around cow piles to avoid them while in pursuit of her tennis ball during field searches. The cocaine scented tennis ball was placed in tall grass in the field and Mika was given the command to "Find". Off she went, first using her eyes to try to get a visual on the ball. When she couldn't see the ball, she put her nose to the ground and paced the field in search of her ball until....eureka! She found it. We did 5 rounds of field searches and headed to the pond to swim the dogs.

On one hand the ponds at the ranch are great because they aren't too big and you can pretty much let your dog get in with little fear of losing the dog. On the other hand, the ponds there are not so great because they are full of mud and cow poo. In other words, you're basically swimming your dogs in a shit hole. Ah, but they love it!

Driving back to school, one of my fellow students and I got lost. The roads here are really winding and hilly, with a trailer park on every corner. Everything looks the same and once you get lost, you have no idea when you will come back out of the hills and hit a major highway that will lead you back to civilization.

I drove on instinct, taking a right turn here, a left turn there. Nothing seemed to bring us closer to anything familiar until finally we saw signs of life...a Starbucks. I pulled in for directions. We got out of the car and headed for Starbucks where we encountered some patrons sitting at the outdoor cafe tables. We asked for directions to a major highway, anything we might recognize that could lead us back to school.

They politely gave us directions and told use we weren't far from Highway 44--well, not far by car that is. "Are you guys walking?" they asked? I looked down at my poo poo pond water soaked jeans and at my friend with her mussed hair and her "down under" Australian outback gear and realized they thought we were hitchhikers or transients. "Uh, no, we're just dog trainers."

Back at school, the first thing I wanted to do was wash the poo water off my dog. I grabbed shampoo and headed for the water pump and hose. I washed Mika down and dried her with a shammy. Then I turned her loose in a fenced-in yard to romp and finish drying off. She took about three steps before putting her nose to the ground, intently sniffing. When she brought her head up, in her mouth was something mashed and furry hanging out; something with a tail. "AHHHHHHHHHHH! PUT IT DOWN! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD...DROP IT!"

As if the shoestring tail didn't give it away, the stench of decomposed animal brought assurity that my darling girl had a dead mouse in her mouth and she had no intention of giving it up. I pulled on her. I shoved her. I kneed her. She just kept chewing. Finally I turned my head away and choked back the vomit rising in my throat.

When she was finally done, I leashed her up and walked her back to my room, keeping her an arm's length away, lest she try to come in close and lick me with her rotten mouse breath. "Don't lick me," I warned.

I put her in her crate and left the room. A friend invited me to watch a video at her house on campus, so there I headed. I tired to settle in for the movie but all I could think is, "What if I come back and find she's thrown up the mouse?" Fear prompted me to go and get her out of her crate, that way if she got sick I could quickly run her outside to the grass and avoid having to clean puked up mouse.

Mika managed to keep the mouse down and she got to lounge around at my friends house. While there she enjoyed a rawhide and she ended up crowding me out of the lounge chair. Now that's what I call having your mouse and eating it too!