Finding snow in June

Took a hike in the White River canyon on Mt. Hood.  It was about an hour up to seemingly the end of the trail, with only a few pockets of snow hidden in the trees.  I could see larger fields up higher on the mountain, so we hiked off trail up the side of a steep hill with only a few moments on the way up where I felt “this might not be the best idea.”  It was worth it though, as once we got up to the top of the ridge, there were plenty of snow fields to play in.  Quinn rolled with unbridled enthusiasm, rooting in the snow like a pig after truffles.

After about an hour of playing in the snow, it was back down the steep hill.  Quinn is an epic descender and seemed to swtichback down.  For me, some sections of the downhill were aided by snow banks that I could slide down, yards at a time.  It was a tiring hike, made more so by the heat and sun, and when we were about a quarter of a mile from the car, Quinn decided to lay down in one of the trickles of water flowing from the mountain.  It looked cooling, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it!

 

Feline channeling.

I only thought cats did this sort of thing.

 

Sometimes, a dog’s gotta chase.

A paraphrase from Dave Chapelle, but its true.  Tonight, I went out to Sauvie Island after getting home from work early.  The water level is still crazy high, so much so that most of our time was spent on the beach access road, which sits at elevation above the beach, because the beach hasn’t come back yet.  It’s a sand road, though, so it’s just as easy on Quinn’s paws.

It was a hard and fast session of sticks and swimming.  Almost constant running, but Quinn seems tireless on days like this after spending the day inside with me at work.  As we were making the way back to the car, I kept hearing a rustling in the bush.  I always think bears, but thankfully, it’s never been bears.  Quinn caught the rustling, too.  And when she found a little path into the bush, she was face to face with a large deer – less than 10 feet away.  It turned and took off on its game trail and Quinn, after a slight hesitation (kind of like WTF is that!) took off after.  She hasn’t really run off after anything before.  My thoughts turned to me hacking my way through the bush giving chase, but then I paused.  This would be a test.  A few quick calls, and I saw a yellow flash through the undergrowth.  I have no illusions that my voice called her off, but Quinn came back within 30 seconds, bursting onto the access road with what can only be described as a dog smile.  She looked back, as if to signal me (her pack) that the chase was afoot, but I think she recognized that there’s no chasing in this pack.  Its good to know that she came back, quickly.

 

On the disabled list.

Both man and dog are hurting right now.  Me, I’ve got some sort of runner’s injury.  Ironic, in that I haven’t been running lately (well, I did sort of jump back into it which, in combination with my old, busted running shoes, was the cause of the injury).  It hasn’t hindered walking, but stupidly I jogged a little (attempted to jog, that is, Quinn had other ideas) yesterday and felt a twinge during my hike out on Sauvie Island.

The river level was higher than I’ve ever seen at the island, so much so that the waterline reached the vegetation at some points, meaning no clear path up and down the length of the beach.  We hiked a little used path through some reeds until we finally reached a clear section of beach for a stick session.  I actually cleared the beach a bit of drift wood thinking that Quinn might injure herself.  Just behind the beach was a grassy meadow, so I decided to chuck a stick out there.  A few yards after Quinn bolted after it, I saw her kind of do a little bump out after leaping over a downed log and I noticed that she must have hit a little stump.  No worries, I thought, as she kept on going without any limping or other signs of injury.   About a half an hour later, when she was rolling in the sand, I noticed a huge red streak running up the insider of her leg.  It wasn’t a cut, but to me it looked like a nasty scratch.  To Quinn, the canine battering ram, it was but a minor annoyance.  She kept on chasing sticks on the beach like a dog possessed and kept on running full steam into the water to swim after them, only periodically pausing to take a few seconds to lick her wound.

She’s so tough that I don’t think she can be injured.  But despite her toughness, she can.  I need to take care not to put her in situations where her zeal for going full bore when off leash might get her in trouble.  I’ve learned not to throw sticks into fast flowing water (seeing her caught in mini rapids in the Clackamas River was not a good five minutes) and now need to make sure I don’t throw sticks where I can’t see the terrain where they will land.  Lesson learned, one of many, and I should try to live life going forward trying to learn a lesson each day, whether in taking care of Quinn or taking care of myself.

 

Enemy at the Gates.

Two squirrels have taken up residence in the tree adjacent to the living room window.  Quinn is very interested.

 

Lost and found.

It was a difficult two days.  Furious searching, but alas, the tennis ball was nowhere to be found.  Strange that something like that could disappear in a one room apartment.  The new replacement tennis ball I tried to get Quinn to play with just didn’t have the same allure as her old one.  I’d tell her to “get her ball” and she’d search the apartment furiously to no avail.

Just like us, dogs can get attached to something that brings comfort, joy, and happiness.  When that is missing, we struggle.  Luckily, I finally found Quinn’s ball, in a shoe in my closet.  Lucky for Quinn.  I’m struggling now because I’m missing something.  I won’t get it back though but I’m trying to look forward to a “new ball.”  I’ll eventually find that.

 

Bounding through the bush.

Ears up.

 

Time catches up with all of us.

Quinn was between 3 and 4 when I got her a little over two years ago.  The Humane Society didn’t have an exact age because she was a stray and a transfer from another shelter, not an owner released dog.  The lack of background information was what led to quite a surprise when her behavior issues first reared their head.  When I took Quinn to the vet, the vet said that she was probably closer to 3 given the condition of her teeth – impeccably white (which is a little surprising given the scavenging instincts she still exhibits to this day and the things that go into her mouth and don’t come out!).

During my first year with Quinn, she was tireless.  It would be out the door for a walk, a run, or fetch (back then on the long lead – no longer needed) and the instant I got back to the house, Quinn would go straight for her ball to continue the play session.

Not so much anymore.  She’s still spry and usually up for playing with the ball if I instigate it, but after a long workout, Quinn is content to lay down and catch a quick nap.  There is a curious pattern to this though.  During the weekdays, a good workout is usually a long walk with about 15 or 20 minutes of stick fetching (with occasional forays to Sellwood for swimming).  After we’re back home, Quinn will settle down on the floor, rarely hopping up on the couch.  On the weekends, though, we take a few hours more during the day for an extended hike or swim / stick session.  Once home and settled, she’ll spend a bit of time on the floor, but eventually ends up on the couch for the rest of the night.  It must be a different level of exhaustion for her (though not for me – I’m equally exhausted no matter what!)

There’s also been a shift in the duration / frequency of the bedtime walks, no matter weekend or weekday.  If we get a good workout in, Quinn is sometimes reluctant to even go outside before I head off to bed.  More often than not, though, it’s a quick trip to side yard for some “bidness,” and right back inside.

Time and age catch up with us all.  Quinn’s teeth are no longer impeccably white and after a particularly exhausting activity, I sometimes see a little bit of stiffness as she gets up to move from nap place to nap place.  Stiffness that sometimes I mirror (and really, if you think about it, our lives are moving from one nap / rest place to another with various activities intermixed.  I’m hoping that Quinn’s shift is a result of a satisfaction of a good days “work,” an appreciation of well-earned rest and just being in a comfortable place.    The other option is that her body is slowing down, but I don’t think that’s the case just yet.  I know that this is an inevitability that I will have to face, but for now, I’d like to believe that time has made a dog who had a tough beginning realize she’s safe and in a comfortable place.  I think that time has brought about a good change, just as it can  in all our lives.

 

Visitors.

Quinn had visitors this past weekend.  My sister and brother were both in town for a couple of days.  Quinn went to Townhouse Pets for an overnight on Friday because I was going to stay out in Hood River with a bunch of folks in and out.  Once she was out of there on Saturday, it was time to meet up with my sister and brother for the rest of the weekend.  Quinn met my sister a few years ago when I first brought Quinn home and met my brother a few months ago when he was out for the holidays, calming down enough in her space after a nice treat session.  Men usually present a problem for her, but I think she actually remembered all those months back.  When they came to the door, I was ready to put Quinn on a leash for a treat heavy reintroduction session, but it wasn’t necessary.  Quinn seemed excited to see both of them right off the bat.  It’s a good sign that she either remembered or is less cautious when folks come into her space and gives me hope for the future.  Now, if I can just get the same reaction when meeting on neutral turf.

 

Checking in.

Wow, its been a long time since the last update.  Quinn is still progressing and, in fact, received a compliment today.  I’ve got to drop some winter weight, so the last few weeks its been back to jogging after a little lapse.  Quinn is still adjusting, but we’ve expanded our jogging route to include some stick throwing and even swimming down underneath the Hawthorn Bridge.  Today was kind of an exploratory run to neighborhoods seldom ventured and Quinn got tired without needed a stick session, so she made a bee line back towards home after rounding the Ladd circles.  As we approached Gustav’s house (a large German Sheppard) one of his mom’s slammed shut the SUV tailgate, and Quinn did a stutter step, looking back to me to see what’s up.  The mom said “she’ll hear Gustav short enough” and, sure enough, a barrage of barks came from the depths of the SUV.  Quinn kept on going without so much of a reaction, and my neighbor said “you’ve done such a good job with him.”  Gender confusion aside, I’ll take the compliment, and I continued on, yelling back, “they’re tough, but I think they’re worth it.”