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Oscar likes to go for walks around our neighbourhood and one of our favourite destinations is the library. Since dogs are not currently allowed to enter libraries Oscar must wait outside while his owners pick up their requested items. So just for a few minutes Oscar gets tied to a tree where he must wait patiently until his owners return to release him.
Now it's quite obvious that Oscar does not enjoy this particular sequence of the walk as he does not appreciate being tethered to a stationary object nor does he like being separated from his people. He has actually begun to recognize when we're drawing close to our destination and tries to delay our progress by not pulling quite as enthusiastically on his lead as normal.
But today's lesson applies to his behaviour when his walking companion reemerges from the library doors to reclaim their briefly-abandoned pet. One might expect the Professor to display a certain amount of disappointment or resentment or at least be somewhat indifferent to his owner's return.
Not this professor, however. The moment he glimpses his owner returning around the corner to retrieve him he starts jumping for joy like what he's currently witnessing is one of the best things to happen to him in weeks. He doesn't remind you of the feelings he had just a few minutes before, even for the briefest moment. It's as if the relationship is starting from a clean slate: wouldn't it be nice if all relationships focused exclusively on the good parts rather than dwelling on those that are less than ideal?
Oscar does not exactly hide his emotions. He makes it very easy to see what he wants by his behavior. And usually what he wants more than anything else is to go for a walk.
Oscar knows that mornings are for him: the first order of business each day is to go to the park for a vigorous workout. Pretty much every day starts this way and Oscar has come to expect this although that doesn't mean he won't try to get you out the door as early as possible.
Afternoons, however, are not always as kind to the Professor and most days end with only the one big morning walk. If it were up to Oscar we would go to the park three, four, five times a day but that's not practical for his owners for a number of reasons. But sometimes when I come home from a long day and I see how excited he gets I can't resist making him the happiest dog in the world and we go out for another ball session. When you see an animal (or a person) getting so excited at the prospect of a particular activity it just feels great being able to make that happen.
Conversely, it can break your heart not being able to come through all the time but I think we strike a good balance. Because if we don't go out in the afternoon then it's only a matter of hours until the next morning rolls around.
It should be no surprise to loyal readers of this blog that the Professor loves to chase balls and play with toys. My personal theory as to why he enjoys this so much is that a ball resembles a small furry animal that is simply begging to be chased. Oscar considers it his duty to conquer his plaything and stop all movement as quickly as possible. When the chase is over, McLovin often opts to take his victim into his mouth and thrash it about wildly from side to side.
Just a few days ago he managed to separate the inner lining of his soccer ball from the outer shell and fling the ball from side to side as if it were a flaccid corpse. It was quite a display and it gave me the image that I tried to capture in the title of today's lesson.
When Professor McLovin is outside he is usually quite excited. Some might say he becomes overstimulated by everything that's going around him and all those tempting options presented to him. On hikes he'll go crashing through the woods, blazing his own personal trail. In parks he'll run around among various landmarks, constantly checking out new things to play with.
But on rocky beaches he never quite reaches that top gear. McLovin takes his sweet time to wander around the intertidal zone, exploring around rocks, checking out the water's edge, wistfully gazing at ducks just out of reach, all the while carefully avoiding those scary tidal pools. He doesn't tear around the beach like he does when he's in other outdoor environments--he has discovered that not everything should be glossed over as quickly as possible and that some things deserve a second look.
We recently returned from a week-long vacation to our family's cabin on Hornby Island. The cabin is located directly on the beach which lends itself particularly well to certain activities of which the Professor is quite fond: aimless exploring, chasing birds and other small animals, fetching rocks out of the ocean, and just general romping about. In fact, it is a veritable Dog Heaven.
This doesn't mean McLovin won't for additional ways to make his visit more enjoyable. You might think he'd be content lazing about on the rocks with all of his whims satisfied for the duration of his stay. But he will definitely take advantage of a more comfortable resting place when given the opportunity, especially when it's unwittingly provided by one of his companions (see picture). I suppose one can always find ways to improve one's lot in life, even under seemingly ideal situations.
As detailed previously in this blog, Professor McLovin howls when he hears sirens in the distance. Sometimes, however, he is so overcome by his need to join in that he completely forgets about his current situation and breaks out into song regardless of what he might doing. This includes times when there is something already in his mouth.This afternoon we were at the park--the Professor just made another one of his Willie Mays catches look routine--when an ambulance drives by. Oscar, of course, feels the need to join the chorus so he puts his head back and lets loose with a howl. What comes out is not his typical mournful cry: rather, he emits garbled sounds of nonsense that sound more like a muted trumpet played underneath an elevated train. The Professor doesn't seem to notice or care that his call to his brethren was not as sonorous as usual but what's important is that he gave his best effort to sing along and didn't waste time dropping his ball in order to do so.
My dedicated readers have no doubt noticed that there have not been many postings on this blog of late. That is because the Professor generally takes summer off from teaching to spend more time on his research projects. I realize these breaks are frustrating but I think we should consider ourselves lucky to have access to such a luminary figure on a regular basis throughout the school year that we should not begrudge his summer vacation.But the Professor is back on the dais which brings us to today's lesson delivered during the heart of baseball season.
It's known in most circles simply as "The Catch". Willie Mays made an outstanding play in the 1954 World Series by chasing down a fly ball hit over his head and catching it on the fly. Many people think it is the best defensive play in the history of baseball.Oscar McLovin is here to tell you that we shouldn't get so carried away by Mays's dramatic display. The Professor performs this same feat at least once a day during our ball-throwing session. Let's compare the human to the canine:- Mays catches the ball on the fly whereas McLovin allows it to bounce once or twice. Advantage: Mays- Mays needs special equipment to catch a ball whereas McLovin doesn't. Advantage: McLovin- Mays made his catch in a pressure-packed situation whereas McLovin doesn't know what pressure is. Advantage: Mays- Mays caught his ball with his hands (a part of the body ideally designed to perform such tasks) whereas McLovin catches balls with his mouth. Advantage: McLovin- Mays had to wait for the ball to be hit to take off whereas McLovin generally anticipates where the ball is going to be, taking off before the ball is thrown his way. Advantage: Tie- Mays made his catch once in his lifetime whereas McLovin makes the catch routinely. Advantage: McLovinI'll let you decide which version of "The Catch" is more impressive but the spectator wins wither way as each one is fun to watch.
Those of you who live in the great Pacific Northwest know we almost set a record for consecutive days without rainfall earlier this month. We came close but we didn't actually break the record which was just as well since it provided a convenient opportunity for the professor's next lesson. His subject this time? Rain.When you're running about chasing a tennis ball around a field or engaging in a similar activity rain is quite nice. It keeps one's skin or fur cool and the warmth that one generates from strenuous exercise is offset by the wet. But if you're just hanging around then rain makes it distinctly unpleasant to go outside.When Oscar McLovin knows it's time for his morning walk he doesn't care what the weather is like outside. I'm convinced that even monsoon-like conditions would fail to temper his enthusiasm. But if he has the option to go outside to spend some time in our yard then he needs the heavens to cooperate: if it's raining cats and dogs he will politely decline the option of going outside unless he needs to relieve himself.
Now I'm aware that this lesson can partly be interpreted as the inverse of Lesson #24 but I feel that the degree to which his behavior changes warrants a separate entry. I suppose that even adverse weather conditions are sometimes right as rain.
Oscar is generally not allowed on furniture in our house. He is invited to go up on the couch in the basement whenever he pleases (usually when we're watching a movie) but all the other chairs and couches are off limits and he respects these guidelines. Frankly I'm surprised he understands the various rules we've laid out for him but he is a tenured professor after all.
The situation with our bed is a tad more complicated but we've managed to work out an arrangement that suits all of our needs. Everyone goes sleep in our respective sleeping spots: the humans in the big bed and the Professor in his little round pet bed. However, McLovin likes to get up with the sun which is often too early for us humans to rouse ourselves. To alleviate his need for attention at this ungodly hour he crawls up into the human bed where he rests peacefully until there's more action in the bed around him. Sometimes he decides he needs to sleep directly between the two of us in which case we're forced to get up earlier than we had planned.
On those occasions when one human gets out of bed while the other slumbers on Oscar immediately gravitates toward the space recently vacated. Maybe he does this to change things up, maybe he just wants to snuggle, but I think the real reason is the subject of today's lesson. It sure is a nice cozy way to ease into the day.
When observing Professor McLovin go about his daily routine I am frequently reminded that all animals evolved from simple organisms with two orifices. That is because so much of what the Professor does involves his oral cavity: it is his prime method of interacting with the world. And it functions perfectly as a way to pick up virtually anything one finds in his proximity.
When humans come across a foreign object the last thing they are likely to do is to stick it between their lips to discern what it might be and whether it might be fun to play with. We use our hands with opposable thumbs or every other sense besides taste before we would take this seemingly drastic step. But for dogs it's an entirely different matter; thus today's lesson.
The pictures show Oscar playing with his newest toy: an oversized tennis ball. I wanted to get him a toy that he couldn't easily fit in his mouth but was also more durable than a soccer ball as he can destroy the latter in a few minutes. I thought this toy would have been too big for him to pick up and he would be forced to play with it by pushing it around with his snout. I apparently underestimated the professor: where there's a will there's a way.
At the beginning of every summer I think my dog is starting to finally grow out of his puppyhood. As the days grow longer and hotter, he gradually loses a lot of his energy and behaves much more calmly. He still likes to run around and chase his ball but his stamina is significantly reduced from his normal amount.
However, it's just a trick that the heat is playing on both of us and, alas, he is still the same crazy young pup with an unlimited supply of strength. The last few days have been closer to normal temperatures and consequently his energy is back to his normal level again. Maybe he'll never slow down entirely but at least his rate of teaching lessons remains consistent.
Professor McLovin never ceases to amaze. This time it's his wonderful nose and his acute sense of smell that drives me to comment.
We just returned from a short trip to Vancouver, a destination that we visit regularly to see friends and family, both human and canine. The trip lasts around three hours and invariably involves a couple of stops: the border line-up, getting gas, etc. Oscar spends most of the car ride either lying down or pushing his head through the bars trying to get a whiff of fresh air to cool him down a bit. But he always seems to know when we're approaching the destination because as soon as we turn on to my parents' block he starts whining and getting agitated. This wouldn't be so surprising if my parents lived close to the freeway but we have to drive on city streets for twenty minutes to get to their house so it's not that the motion in the car has changed.
My theory is that every block smells a little different from its neighbor and that it takes a nose that is twice the size of your brain to distinguish among the various subtle aromas that permeate a particular spot on earth. It's not surprising that Oscar shows excitement when about to see his "Uncle Punky" but what amazes me is his ability to anticipate the event simply by making sense of the world based on what he senses in his immediate surroundings.
There are two types of long weekends: those which are consumed with commitments and those which are relatively free. Neither type is inherently superior but sometimes it's nicer to have one type rather than the other at a particular time.
This last Memorial Day weekend was one for which we didn't have much going on. Thankfully the weather cooperated so we enjoyed three full days of staying mostly at home, gardening, reading, and hanging out in our backyard. Which meant that the Professor had constant company for three straight days and wasn't willing or able to take as many naps as he's accustomed to.
It was amusing for us to observe the effect that a lack of shut-eye had on his behavior: he was amazingly calm in the mornings and didn't clamor to go out right away; he didn't feel the need to bark at every passing dog or person; and he kept looking at us with dopey eyes that were struggling to stay open, questioning if this madness would ever end.
Therefore, sleep is important, even to professors with a seemingly unending supply of energy. Apparently we all have to charge our batteries to be able to operate at high speed.
A dog's life often necessitates being left alone in the house. Who knows what they do with all that free time but I think it's likely they spend most of their days sleeping and waiting patiently for their owners to return.
When one of us comes or goes from the house Professor McLovin likes to prop himself up on our windowsill that overlooks the street to watch his people come and go. Perhaps it makes him feel like the absence will be just a little bit shorter this way. Our window provides him with an uncontested view of the street that allows him to see what's going on in front of his house. But it also underscores today's lesson and emphasizes how the Professor considers it one's duty to look out for those who are important to you.
Oscar has one particularly endearing habit: he howls at sirens. Whenever an ambulance or fire truck drives by within hearing range, his ears perk up for a second then he tilts his head back and lets loose a series of unearthly howls that can last up to half a minute. We've tried to get him to howl on command but have been entirely unsuccessful as he will take his cue from one source only.Now it's unclear why exactly he behaves this way but one possible explanation is that he is demonstrating unequivocal support for his friends. Even friends that come in the bright-red-metallic-can-put-out-fires variety. If you hear someone giving a cry for help then one natural reaction would be to let them know where you are if they need to find you and also stress that you feel similarly and have their back.
But all in all this is one of the Professor's lessons for which I don't really care if there's a method to his madness: just hearing him deliver his notes brings a smile to my face every time.
Oscar's leash manners are less than exemplary. Like many dogs he loves to pull and pull. He's pretty much intolerable to take on walks unless he's in his harness and even then he can be difficult to manage. We've been trying to improve his leash behavior for some time to mixed success: if he's pulling on his lead then we try and make him stop by standing still. Of course this makes the walk progress much more slowly but we think our efforts are starting to bear fruit and that Oscar realizes he can't just decide where he wants to go while on leash.
Not to be discouraged, the Professor has recently developed an alternate solution which he employs on occasion. He likes to keep in constant motion so when he feels a tug from behind instead of just stopping and waiting he will run behind his walker in order to relieve the tension in the leash. When he is especially excited (such as when we're on our way to the park for our morning walk) Prof. McLovin basically ends up running around his walker in circles, turning the leash into a confused mess of twists and knots. But because he's not pulling we don't have to stop and wait which means we get to our destination faster as a result of his ridiculous constant motion.
Ah, springtime.The days grow longer, the birds are singing, the grass is growing, and the bugs are buzzing. The last of which provides Professor McLovin with yet another opportunity to expound on his latest rule.Bicycles, balls, rodents, joggers, falling leaves, dogs, waves: the world is filled with so many things that move. It doesn't matter if you can't catch whatever you're chasing because it's the pursuit itself that is most satisfying. So if you see something move out of the corner of your eye consider it your duty to get over there as fast as you can and start tearing around after it until it's gone or has become stationary. Only then can you give up the chase.
Oscar hates taking a bath in the conventional sense--there must be something uncomfortable about being sprayed with a blast of water from a hose even if you're in a dedicated dogwash facility. So whenever the Professor is a little stinky the most agreeable solution for all concerned is to head to the lake or ocean for a dip that usually involves some version of fetch. We just returned from a jaunt to Vancouver where the weather and tides allowed for a couple of long walks on the expanse of wet sand at Jericho Beach (shhh, don't tell the park authorities) so we had the chance to play in the ocean quite a bit.
Of course it's tons of fun splashing about in the water but one of the unintended consequences from this activity is that Oscar's coat becomes soft and fluffy once he's had a chance to dry off. If we bathe in freshwater the effect is similar but not as pronounced as that of saltwater. For some reason the ocean is much more effective at producing the soft coat of fur. I'm not sure why this happens but Professor McLovin doesn't always feel the need to explain his lessons: often noting the observations is pleasure in and of itself.
Oscar has a girlfriend. He likes playing with other dogs but Sam is his preferred playmate. They are about the same size, both have Labrador Retriever blood in them, and they absolutely love romping about with each other whenever they are together. Oscar is a few years younger and might have a bit more energy but they enjoy wrestling so much that they can go at it for hours on end.
Sam had been staying at Oscar's house for the last few days so they had gotten used to each other's company when it was time for Sam to go back home. It was taxing for the humans to separate the canines as they both wanted to be on the same side of the front door at all times. We finally managed to get Sam to leave the house unaccompanied but she obviously didn't want to go alone: she kept looking back at the house where she knew her best friend was. Eventually she hopped up into the car but it was a prolonged departure. For his part, Oscar was perched on the window sill, watching his friend reluctantly walk away. For the rest of the evening he was entirely subdued, remaining a little distant from us, and he went to bed early in a seemingly morose mood.
All in all, it was a difficult event to witness but at least we know they will have plenty of future opportunities to rekindle their friendship. And in a few days' time both dogs will have moved on to more pressing matters because, as we learned in lesson 3, It's All About the Here and Now.
I didn't need my dog to teach me this lesson but nevertheless I am pleased he has confirmed my feelings on the subject. Every time we are reminded to 'fall back' or 'spring forward' I recall the same emotions of frustration and senselessness. Because it grows apparent with every passing year that Daylight Savings is unnatural and should be made a thing of the past.So I was somewhat satisfied when Professor McLovin
started lecturing on this theme come spring. On the morning when the clocks were set back an hour he awoke an hour 'late' and completely ignored the new time in a symbolic protest, a 'lie-in' if you will. Each day, as the sun started rising earlier and earlier, he adjusted his morning routine accordingly, always ignoring time (man's synthetic construct) in deference of Time (mother nature's clock.)Yes, we should form patterns following the natural rising and setting of the sun, the ebb and flow of time rather than pandering to knee-jerk reactions based on outdated traditions that may not have ever been a good idea even when they conceived. (I'm might be a little too passionate on this topic: I read an entire non-fiction book devoted to the history and debate surrounding Daylight Savings.) So let's add one more voice on the side against mechanically adjusting all the clocks in the house on the second Sunday in March and the first Sunday in November.
Some may say variety is the spice is life but the Professor feels differently. Once you've found something you love doing, why not just stick with it and keep doing it?
Virtually every day in Oscar's life begins with a walk to the park and a healthy dose of playing fetch. Instead of being resigned to such a predictable pattern Oscar shows so much excitement upon getting up that you know there's only one thing on his mind: let's get to the park already! Once we arrive we go through pretty much the same sequence each time: throw the ball, chase the ball, catch the ball, bring it back, sit and wait for the next throw. Maybe we sniff some bushes or eat some grass in between throws but essentially the same actions are repeated many times until it's time to go home.
Oscar gets tired when it's warmer out but when we're out snowshoeing he has more stamina so that I believe if someone were willing to throw him snowballs for an entire day he would not get tired of catching them and would be beginning
for more and more. So search out for those things you love doing and do them as much as possible: boredom and repetition do not necessarily go hand in hand.
One of the best things about owning a dog is that he is always happy to see you when you walk in the door. Without exception. No matter the weather, no matter what kind of mood you're in, no matter what kind of day you've just had Oscar McLovin will be at the door eagerly anticipating the moment when your eyes first meet. He wants to greet you immediately, usually by jumping on you unless he remembers that he's been trained to jump up straight in the air instead because that's more polite. Even if you've been gone for a short amount of time (a couple of minutes is usually enough) the Professor will behave as though he had been anticipating your return with glee the entire time you were away.I also think it's remarkable that Oscar can determine the amount of time you were separated and if it's longer than normal then he raises his antics to another level. We just returned from a 5-day vacation and when I went to pick him up from his girlfriend's house he went absolutely berserk: he pinned his ears backed and nearly jumped out of his skin. The typical reunion lasts only a few minutes but this time he wanted to be pet, played with, snuggled up to for as long as we could manage.You might say that the Professor is simply proving the adage that "Absence makes the heart grow fonder." But even if you've heard that phrase before, it is certainly a nice feeling to be the object of the actions that the fonder heart inspires.
Dogs are supposed to have bad memories. Obviously they learn things like commands and get used to patterns but their short-term memories are supposed to be rather sketchy. I remember reading somewhere that they typically don't have attention spans longer than 30 seconds. But as this blog is quickly establishing, Professor McLovin is not your typical dog.Oscar is really good at remembering certain things, i.e. when it is in his interest to do so. For example, one day we were out in the yard together and he was standing at the top of the stairs leading down to the basement door, gazing at me with an expectant look on his face. He normally doesn't stand in one spot for a long time so his behavior struck me as unusual. Unbeknownst to me he had dropped his tennis ball down the stairs a day before and was unable to retrieve it so was silently beseeching me to fetch him his toy. He couldn't see the ball as it had rolled under some lawn furniture--he just knew it was there because he remembered losing it from the day before.It serves us to remember good things, things that will be beneficial to us if we remember them. I'm not sure whether the converse is true or not, but if we focus on the positive enough then there won't be enough time to worry about remembering the less pleasant things in life. Now if only Oscar could somehow 'remember' to not jump on people when they come in the door we'd really be getting somewhere...
Oscar is one of those dogs who feels it is necessary to hide his 'business' from the world. He usually does a poor job of actually covering it up but it's not for a lack of effort. The one and only time he was actually successful in making his deposit disappear from sight involved a fortuitously placed pile of leaves. I don't know what evolutionary purpose this behavior serves but it must originate from somewhere because it is common to see dogs digging away at the earth with their back legs immediately after having visited nature's water closet.
What particularly strikes me about the Professor's innate desire to cover his tracks is that now he has started to dig after number ones as well. Which happens quite a bit because he likes to pee on anything and everything. So now every time we go to the park it feels like he is constantly either relieving himself or flinging his legs behind him, scraping at the ground with all four paws in a frantic attempt to cover his tracks completely.But since the whole point of marking territory is to inform other canines that you've been there what exactly is the purpose of then trying to hide your impact? It seems as though I do not understand certain secrets of the world and that my studies with the Professor are far from complete.
Oscar is not a beggar but he does show keen interest whenever food is being prepared. Usually he mills about the chef's feet, not getting in the way but definitely trying to be noticed in case someone wants to feed him an extra snack.However, his behavior changes from passive to aggressive once certain foodstuffs are involved. If butter or cheese gets taken out of the fridge Oscar's ears immediately perk up and he runs over to where the action is. He doesn't necessarily expect to get an immediate reward but he does make himself available for an impromptu handout: perhaps the cheese is a bit moldy and unfit for human consumption.What amazes me most is his ability to sense whenever we are about to eat one of these dairy products. I would say "smell" but I think the Professor possesses more of an extra-sensory skill to sense the presence of butter or cheese rather than having to rely on his nose alone. He can be outside amusing himself when I walk over to the fridge and open the cheese drawer only to find that he is suddenly by my side, looking up at me expectantly. Or sometimes he can be fast asleep all the while I've been preparing breakfast but when it comes time for spreading a certain toast topping he springs up from his resting place as if he had been lying in wait for this moment for the last half hour.In the interest of full disclosure I must admit he also has a knack for sensing chicken or fish but since we are a a mainly vegetarian household he does seem to react most strongly to butter and cheese. Which implies to me that since butter and cheese smell so good they should be thoroughly enjoyed by those souls that are lucky enough to consume them regularly.
Oscar and I just came back from a walk around the neighborhood that included a visit to the library. I had to go inside to sign out some books which meant the Professor had to wait outside for a few minutes. I tied him to a tree, disappeared for about 1 minute, and came right back outside. Even though we were only separated for a short time Oscar was virtually jumping out of his skin with excitement to see me again. It was as if the best possible thing that could ever happen to him just occurred and he was expressing his joy accordingly. Good thing it was a sturdy tree.In a more general sense... Oscar's tail was docked when he was a pup so all he has left to wag back there is a little black nub. But he sure loves to wag that nub! It's a transparent expression of happiness that leaves no room for interpretation: if the Professor is looking at you and wagging his tail then he doubtless is happy to see you.
Professor McLovin makes it easy for his companions to understand how he's feeling. By expressing his love and affection so openly he invites you to reciprocate his gestures so that you, in turn, also wear your emotions on your sleeve. And, as cheesy as it sounds, everyone is better off by seeing unrivaled happiness reflected in the faces--and tails--of those around us. Perhaps love does make the world go around after all.
It's soft and fluffy and fun to roll around in. It's cool and feels nice against your skin. It's bright and white and looks refreshingly clean. It's light and comfortable to lie around in. It envelops you without smothering you completely. It lets you run around in countless directions, providing the perfect amount of resistance. It forms snowballs that can then be chased without end. And if you get too hot from running around you can take a drink from anywhere around you.
After taking our dog snowshoeing this past weekend I was reminded just how much fun snow appears to be through the eyes of a dog. I honestly think that snowshoeing is his favourite activity, ranking slightly ahead of hiking and chasing tennis balls. On snowshoe outings, Oscar routinely covers about 5 times amount of distance compared to his human walking companions. That's because when we're out in the snow together his motor won't stop running. Even in the city, snow fuels his engines unlike anything else. Plus I don't think he would ever get tired of chasing snowballs provided someone was willing to throw them for him.
More pictures from our 2009 snowshoeing adventures here.
Virtually every other dog I've known will eat whatever is put in front of him as quickly as possible. Not only will most dogs attack their meals immediately after they are presented but they also will wolf down their food at an extraordinarily fast pace. Instinct seems to dictate that you should engulf your meals before anyone else comes along who might also wish to take a bite.
The Professor, however, has a different attitude towards mealtime. We had trained him to wait until we said "OK" before he was allowed to tuck in but it turns out this was redundant. Oscar routinely waits until he's good and ready before he starts eating. And when he does decide to begin it's a very mellow, controlled affair. He takes his time, pausing between mouthfuls to assess his surroundings and often will interrupt the meal to go and investigate something else. He doesn't quite chew his kibble but he is very deliberate about how often he returns to the trough. He usually finishes his bowl but sometimes he will leave a little left over from breakfast so that dinner is a bit bigger than normal. One delay tactic worth noting is his tendency to spill a select number of morsels all over the floor with the first few bites so that it takes additional time to at the end of the meal once the rest of the food has been eaten. The overriding lesson here is to take your time while eating and appreciate the hard work that went into producing this meal, or at the very least provide yet another source of amusement for the person who scoops two servings into your bowl every day.
This might be the first lesson that Professor McLovin ever taught us. We had just met him at the kennel for the first time and we didn't know what to expect. He sat himself down next to us and gave us one of his front paws to hold. If we'd move he would come straight back over and proffer his paw until we held it. For the next few weeks he'd constantly perform this maneuver. Although he may have disguised some of his less pleasing behaviours during that first interview, he wanted to make sure we were always in touch with him.Oscar preaches this lesson almost everyday. In his ideal world he would almost always prefer physical contact over just being near people. My parents learned this for themselves this weekend. Apparently even if you're covered in fur it's nice to snuggle up next to another warm being for a nap.
"Use your words!" is an admonishing phrase we often hear delivered to a toddler by her frustrated parent. But you don't need a rich vocabulary to be an effective
communicator. Sometimes you don't even need to open your mouth: An eager look in the right direction is often enough to impart what you're feeling. Or a subtle wag of your tail, back and forth, back and forth. Or you can run and stand by the closet door where certain equipment is stored hoping to spur someone else into action. When all else fails you can resort to vocal sounds, but isn't it much more satisfying to know you've gotten what you want when you didn't even have to ask?
This may seem to contradict Lesson #3 but this lesson deals more with the physical rather than the temporal world. An alternate title could be, Don't Get Left Behind.
When you're out on a walk you naturally want to be the leader and that means you're out in front of the pack, scouting the trail, looking for things to chase, and making sure everything is safe for those who follow. Everything is going nice and smooth as long as the caravan continues to fall in behind you.
But sometimes the direction suddenly changes much to your surprise. Or you guess wrong at a Y junction. At times like these it's imperative to make up the lost ground and go as quickly as possible to the front of the walking party so that proper order is reestablished. All because it's important to be ahead of the general train.
The present is much more exciting than the past or the future. Sure, good things may have just happened they can't compare to what's going on at this very moment exactly where you are located. No need to worry about events taking place elsewhere or to other people. No sense dwelling on what just occurred. And absolutely no prognosticating about what may or may not happen down the road. Focus on the present and everything will work itself out: plus you'll enjoy being alive that much more.
Things that smell good, things that look interesting, things that sound alluring, things that taste delicious. So many things that would otherwise go unnoticed. It seems that everything around us was created for a reason and is worthy of investigation. This might mean we're distracted from time to time but that's not really a problem. So enough reading ... time to go exploring.
So I'm not really surprised by the physics of this lesson but I was not expecting Oscar's tennis ball to be glued to the inside of the Chuckit on today's morning walk. It never occurred to me that a fuzzy tennis ball could actually freeze, especially since it wasn't too cold overnight. Yet when I tried to throw him his first toss it felt like I was operating a catapult with a rock at one end that just wouldn't budge. I tried to loose the ball a number of times conventionally until I had to break down and pry it out with my hands. I'm surprised he was willing to pick it up in his mouth before it had a chance to thaw but, then again, Oscar does feel quite strongly towards his ball.I'm guessing that the ball must have been waterlogged from the day before to aid the freezing process. OK, saliva-logged.
