The hat thief is tenacious, insistent, and unsympathetic. She’s motivated, resilient, and determined. When she sees a hat, and it’s within reach, there is nothing that will stop her from getting it. She is the best hat thief I have ever seen (okay, the only one too), and she makes me smile every time I see her succeed. The Adoption A year ago last October we adopted a 5-6 month old black and white puppy from a nearby rescue. We named her Ayla after the heroine in my favorite book series – The Earth’s Children by Jean M. Auel (I dare you to read the first book in the series, Clan of the Cave Bear, and not get hooked).We didn’t know much about Ayla, only that she had been rescued from a high-kill shelter in Missouri, she had recovered from Parvo as a young puppy, and that she seemed to get a little excited when she went outside with her foster parents. This last admission turned out to be a huge understatement. We took Ayla out on her first walk the day after we adopted her. Five minutes into the walk, she saw a dog walking a quarter mile down the road, and immediately put her buck up, started barking, snarling, and foaming at the mouth. My favorite was when she jumped like a fish out of water – trying to shake the collar around her neck. She wasn’t excited, she was crazy! In the next few weeks, we found that Ayla had panic attacks when we would put her in her kennel at bed time, she got very territorial around food and treats, and when she was tired, and someone walked too close to her, she would snap and growl at them. But, the strangest revelation I had was that I never saw this puppy play. She never seemed happy or loving. Did she even know how to play? I was angry. My anger was not only for this little 40lb. furball of crazy, I was angry at the rescue for adopting out a dog with so many problems – especially to a family with children. I was so close to returning Ayla to the rescue, but something kept us from doing so. My family and I took Ayla to puppy training, we had an animal behaviorist come and work with Ayla at our home, and we continued to work with Ayla on a daily basis. Then, about nine months after we adopted her, something happened. Ayla stole her first hat. The Hat Thief Ayla is part border collie and part Australian cattle dog, so her nature is to round up every moving thing that invades her sight. Last summer, my family was up at the cabin enjoying a warm afternoon on the hammock when Ayla began chasing the under side of the hammock, trying to nip at the kids and round them up. The kids were giggling as they tried to dodge Ayla’s quick movements. At one point, the hammock became unbalanced as both kids tried to pile up on the left side to avoid Ayla, and the whole hammock flipped. Legs, arms, and bodies were flying everywhere before the kids landed in a heap on the ground. Before we knew it, a black blur ran by and sniped my son’s lucky fishing hat. This move was so unexpected that I immediately started laughing, and both of the kids took off after the hat thief. Ayla sprinted, dodged, and teased the kids in an intense game of keep away. Her tail was up, her ears were alert, and she seemed to have a spring in her step as she played. Ayla was playing! For the first time since we had adopted her, Ayla was playing. She finally looked like a puppy – a happy puppy. Happiness It’s been another eight months since Ayla found happiness. Her behavior isn’t perfect yet, but she has improved by leaps and bounds. I like to say that we’ve learned just as much as Ayla has. The family has had to learn a patience we have never had to utilize before, we had to learn signals that Ayla was giving us when she didn’t know how to handle certain situations, and we had to learn different ways of training this smart and determined pup. Even though we’ve all been learning a lot, I’m happy to say that Ayla has held onto her puppy playfulness. Ayla enjoys playing with her older sister, Brook, whenever our 14-yr. old dog is up for playing. Ayla has also found joy in playing with dog toys. She loves to catch her squeaky soccer balls, retrieve her tennis balls, and play tug-of-war. And, she has found that winter is her best friend. Why? Because everyone wears hats whenever they go outside! When my family watches the hat thief in action, it makes us smile and laugh. Seeing the happiness, playfulness, and joy that has emerged in a puppy once devoid of all of this brings us happiness, playfulness, and joy. What brings a smile to your face? I’d love to read about your stories of happiness? *Update – Today Ayla managed something quite impressive. She was able to get my son’s hat out from under his bike helmet. She was sure proud of herself when that hat slipped off of his head.
#dogs
Black Ice – Beauty, Surprises, and Adventure
Black ice – no, not the type that forms on the roads from car exhaust on frigid winter days. It’s the kind that forms on lakes with very few impurities. So few that the ice is clear and appears black because the water below absorbs almost all of the light. Black ice is a treat to walk on and explore. Even though I dread the onset of our long winters here in the Upper Midwest (read my mournful post and poem here), there are things my family and I look forward to every year. We enjoy sledding, cross-country skiing (read about one of our favorite trips here), snowboarding, playing board games on cold winter nights, and taking our daily walks on a frozen lake down the road. One week ago, our family cautiously stepped out on that very lake as we had seen other footprints appear on the lightly snow-covered ice the week before. We walked out about ten feet, brushed off what little snow had blown down the lake, and peered into the ice. We were thrilled to see that the ice was clear. We could see little air bubbles trapped in the ice more than 8″ down – it was safe to walk on. My husband and I gave the kids the okay to run and play, and we had the dogs sit so we could let them off their leashes. The dogs’ tails revealed their excitement as they sat waiting to hear the click of the leash that would tell them that they were free to run too. In an instant, two black fluff balls took off after the kids – running, bounding, and knocking into one another as they played along the way. Not more than a minute later, Brook, our almost 13-year old pup, came to a screeching halt. Ayla, our 1-year old, was too late. I had to laugh when I saw her hit a glossy, black sheet of ice. She tried to dig her nails in, but that didn’t work. She tried to brace herself by getting low, but that didn’t work. She also tried to run off of the evil slick stuff, but she lost her footing. Ayla went for a sprawling slip ‘n slide across the inky, smooth lake ice. Once Ayla found the reprieve of snow again, she stood up, looked at what had taken her for a ride, and proceeded to run after the kids again – this time avoiding each and every black ice spot on the lake. The kids spent the next half hour slipping and sliding on the ice while the dogs played and tracked animal scents they found throughout the cattails. After the kids had depleted their energy, the whole family began doing what we love most – exploring. My family and I went from black ice to black ice to see what we could see. The ice held many beautiful treasures, and wonderful surprises. Intricate fern-like patterns graced the surface of the ice. Bubbles of all sizes sat suspended in the ice giving the ice depth and character. Large cracks had powerfully ripped across the lake, and we could see all the beautiful ripples, fissures, and lines in these breaks that spanned the full depth of the ice. I wish my camera had been able to adequately capture all that our eyes had seen. Aside from the beauty that the ice held in itself, it revealed other surprises too, such as fish, snail shells, and weeds that expelled their oxygen in thousands of little bubbles. My daughter also found a little honey bee curled up on the snow as we walked. She told me that she found the warmest spot to lay it on – a black rock. Several holes in the ice that were tucked into the cattails were found by my son. We can only imagine that the local muskrats are keeping exit and entrance holes into the water open. They must stay busy! My family has spent hours on the lake each day for the past week. We walk, talk, explore, throw tennis balls for the dogs, slide on the ice, take pictures, and take in as much fresh, cold air as we can. As much as I dread our long winter spell before the cold hits, I love our cold-weather adventures once winter does finally set in. What are your favorite winter activities? If you don’t have cold winters where you are, what would you like to experience most if you could visit our cold winter wonderland?
Just Me and My Dogs: A Solitary Hike on the Lake Superior Hiking Trail
Just me and my dogs, alone, on the Lake Superior Hiking Trail. I’ve hiked portions of this trail many times in my life, but never alone with my dogs, and never this particular segment. Early in the afternoon on Saturday, August 18th, I drove the short 2.5 miles up the gravel road from the location my family was vacationing at, to the Castle Danger Trailhead. I noticed a few cars in the small trail-side parking lot, but saw no one. I leashed the dogs, threw my backpack over my shoulders, and headed over to the trail sign: Crow Creek .5mi Red Pine Overlook 1.5mi Encampment River 2.6mi Sure! Why not? I felt a sort of elation as the dogs and I stepped onto the trail – alone. In my day-to-day life I’m a stay-at-home mother of 7 and 9-yr. old children, which I love, but it’s been years since I’ve walked alone; at my own pace; in silence. Nature, here I come! The dogs started off the hike with an excited burst of energy. They seemed to know that a wilderness hike was waiting for them. Brook, my 12-yr. old border collie-lab mix, and Ayla, my border collie-Australian cattle dog mix, were pulling at the leashes with their noses buried in the long grass. I noticed a silence, devoid of others’ voices. But shortly thereafter, new sounds of rustling grasses, branches hitting each other as the wind swept through the high tree tops, and the poignant call of a bird evaded my ears. I was zoning in on the wilderness around me. Within minutes we came across a sign: As I gazed past the sign, I noticed a sharp drop in terrain. We must have made it to Crow Creek. I let Brook off of her leash for the steep descent down as I didn’t want her restrained while she climbed down the stairs – her old hips need special attention. But, the dogs barreled down the wall of Crow Creek anyway, while I tried to avoid the poison ivy that was invading the trail at every step. “If you stay to the left, it’s easier to step down to the creek bed” came a female voice from below. “Thank you!” I replied. A slim lady with short grey hair and a hard hat greeted me as the dogs and I stepped into the mostly-dry Crow Creek. Brook, off her leash, gingerly made her way over to the lady to say hi. Everyone is Brook’s best friend. Luckily, the lady was a dog lover, and squatted down to give Brook a thorough pet. “What’s going on down here?” I asked. “Well, last month we had 8” of rain here, and several footbridges were washed down stream, so we’re here to disassemble them and fix the steps on the sides of the creek. As I looked up the creek, I was surprised to see workers hauling a huge boulder using a four-handled sling – one man per handle. They were gathering the boulders and placing them on the sides of the creek to be used as stairs. There was no way to get heavy machinery into the creek, so everything has to be done using human power. A few of the workers waved, and one said “You’re the first one to use our new steps!” “I’m honored, and thanks so much for the work you’re doing here!” I replied. The dogs and I said our goodbyes, tested out the new steps on the far side of the creek – “They’re sturdy!” I yelled down to the crew below – and continued on our way. Up, up, and up, we climbed. “This is going to be some overlook.” I thought to myself. The dogs and I hiked up steep hills, we climbed up small, but challenging rock obstacles, and cherished the brief flat terrain. The billion-year old basalt cliffs surrounding Lake Superior were proving to be formidable hiking opponents. Now I was hearing the dogs panting, my deep breathing, my new barefoot trail shoes crunching on gravel trails, and I think I could hear my heart beating. The challenging hike was invigorating. The same bird with the high, sharp call continued to follow us on our hike for about a half a mile. I never did see the shy, but curious bird as it kept itself well-hidden in the canopy of the trees. Soon after the mystery bird left, we arrived at the breathtaking Red Pine Overlook. Small, but perfectly manicured farms dotted the vast valley below, we could see tree tops for miles, and the distant landscape was tinged a milky bluish-white due to the Canadian wildfires that burned hundreds of miles away. Brook, panting like crazy, chose to lie down on a rocky outcrop to enjoy the breeze coming up from the valley. Just as we were all sitting down to catch our breath on the overlook, the dogs and I heard something crashing through the woods behind us. I immediately thought black bear, or maybe a moose. Whatever it is, it’s big, and it’s CLOSE! Ayla, my ferocious 35lb. 1-yr. old dog jumped straight up, and turned a 180 in the air. Her buck was up as she barked wildly at the crashing sound. Just then, we saw an old red pine trunk crash through the trees right over the trail we had just walked, though it didn’t touch the ground as a young red pine exerted its strength and held that old trunk about 8 ft. off the ground. Settle down, heart! Since we were all up and alert, we decided to continue our hike to our final destination – the Encampment River. The next mile-long stretch of our hike would end up being my favorite. Towering red pines lined the high bluff we explored, thick layers of pine needles cushioned our steps, and a beautiful overlook accompanied us along the way. Have you noticed the sweet smell of browned pined needles? It is one of my