A Woman’s Touch

     When it comes to Strider's maintenance, I like to think that I stay as much on top of it as any other average dog owner.

     I only give him a couple of baths a year, but there's a good reason for that. Hunting dogs secrete special oil from their skin that makes their coats water resistant. One of the first things that anybody says when they meet Strider is what a beautiful, shiny coat he has. "How do you get it like that?" they often ask me. My reply: "I never wash him. Go ahead; rub your face in his neck a little more." So I like to have some fun…sue me. The shiny quality that is so attractive is the oil that is covering every hair on his body. That's not to say that he doesn't get thoroughly hosed down after a long morning in the muddy marsh (lest my house smell like that crap), but the oil is specifically meant to withstand regular water. If he is bathed with soap too often, it will wash the oil right off and, well, try to imagine jumping into that frigid water with wet clothing, and you might get an idea of what the poor dog would feel like.

     He does get brushed once every couple of weeks, but that's more for my own satisfaction than anything. As a hunting dog, he sheds quite a bit more than the average house dog. Most house dogs don't get a full winter coat like hunting dogs do, and let me tell you this: when that winter coat goes, so does the color of your carpet. It gets everywhere.

     Strider also has a chronic ear infection that never seems to go away. The vets keep telling me that it's a yeast infection problem, and keep giving me the same thing to clean it out with, but it never seems to fully get better. I've been told by some that it's not completely uncommon for water dogs in particular, and it makes sense. Water is always getting in their ears, and since the ear lobes fold over, it doesn't really give them a chance to fully dry out. Moisture breeds yeast; yeast causes infections.

     The one place where I'm absolutely not comfortable in his maintenance is clipping his nails. I cut too short a couple of times when he was younger, causing discomfort for him and a bit of blood for me to clean up. I hate hearing him cry, and since his nails are all black, I have no idea where to cut them without hurting him. This is where by girlfriend, Nichole, comes in.

     She was a vet-tech at one point in her life, and has a lot of experience cutting nails. Somehow, she can look at that dog's feet (after giving me a look that says, "How do you let them get this long?"), and cut them just as short as any groomer that I've ever seen. Thank God she's around. In a rough and tough hunting world that is mostly dominated by men (no, I'm not being sexist, it's a fact…look it up), I guess some things just take a woman's touch.

     It was just last week that he was due for his nails to be cut, so it was Nichole to the rescue…again.
Allow me to digress for a moment. I'm not sure what it is, but whenever Strider is put on his back for an extended period of time, he gets a case of the sneezes. I'm talking a full on sneezing fit. I'm not completely sure what does it, but it absolutely never fails.

     Thanks to me, and my lack of nail cutting knowledge, this is not Strider's favorite time. He really detests it, and he has to be restrained and then soothed before he will relax just enough for Nichole work her magic. The only position that I have found he will relax in is with him laying down and having his head in my lap. Even then, he's still a bit restless. He doesn't cry or protest too much, but he is less than completely cooperative in just giving over his paws to Nichole. Again, this whole ordeal is completely my fault, and I can't blame him for hating it.

     This last clipping went as smooth as we could have expected, but he did get a small fit of the sneezes while he was lying on my lap, causing Nichole to put a pause on the process until he had finished. She cut his back nails, and then announced that he was all done, which he has come to learn means that he can get up and get his treat. Nichole, being the loving mom that she is, gave him a lot of praise and told him what a good boy he was…and that's when it happened.

     Go ahead; say the word "boy" out loud one time. You'll notice that at the end of the word, your mouth is completely wide open in almost a half-smile. Maybe he had been holding it back, but he had one big sneeze left in him, and he waited until she said "boy," and let it go…right in Nichole's mouth. Her entire body froze in place. Her mouth didn't move, she managed to close her eyes in time (which, ironically enough, were protected behind her glasses, but remained closed) and her hands were frozen in mid-air where Strider's head had been before he sneezed, and she was terrifyingly silent. Strider took a couple of steps back; a move he must have learned from me. I think I may have saved that dog's life that day. Of course, I was on the floor laughing, which diverted her attention away from him and onto me, which made her laugh…a little. Had I not been there, I think she may have strangled him. Luckily, she does have a soft spot for Strider, and has agreed that she will continue to cut his nails.

     Never a dull moment with a retriever.

     Until next time, give extra scratches behind the ears and happy training!

Who’s the Boss?

    Anyone who has watched television in the last ten years knows about pack mentality among dogs. They are canines, and canines run in packs. I agree with many experts that the pack mentality of dogs is not the same as that of wolves, but nobody in their right mind can honestly say that it is not there at some level.

    In any pack, there is a certain order to things, and to have order, you must have an established hierarchy. The order for our combined homes (those being mine and my girlfriend, Nichole) goes from human to dog, as it should. The line between who is in charge of the humans is a little muddled at times…but this is about the dogs. (Ahem)

    Beyond the authority of Nichole and me, it is absolutely undisputed who is in control of the dogs, and her name is Allee; an 18 pound Boston Terrier. Her rule over Strider is absolute.
I will be completely honest when I tell you that this causes a bit of conflict for me. On the one hand, my pride is hurt a little bit by my 95 pound hunting dog being pushed around by something that's roughly the size of his back leg; on the other hand…it's freaking hysterical.

    Allee is ten years old, and still has as much energy as any puppy I've ever seen (and no, I am not exaggerating). You would expect the five year old Strider to run around like a crazy man and bugging the crap out of her, as younger dogs tend to do. Not so much. Theirs is a relationship based on competition with an occasional glimpse of affection. Allee has a need to have whatever Strider has. Strider will get a toy out of the basket, Allee runs over and snatches it out of his mouth and takes it into the other room, where she proceeds to possessively chew on. Undeterred, Strider gets another toy out of the basket. As if by ESP, Allee runs from the other room, where she has left the first toy, and snatches a second toy away from the big dog. Repeat this process four or five more times, and we are then left with an empty toy basket and a bed full of dog toys that Allee is lying on top of.

    Sometimes Strider will be feeling bold and, in his own way, proceeds to fight fire with fire. When Allee comes running out in a clear attempt to steal something from him, he will hold it up in the air where she can't reach it. We can almost hear Strider saying, "Haha! Too tall for you! Too tall for you!" Allee leaps back and forth as Strider will hold it right at her eye level, then lift it up and away from her just before she grabs it. Put some little horns on Allee, and it would look like a Fido Bull Fight. What really cracks me up is when he holds whatever it is that she wants over a coffee table, which is taller than her head and thus places the toy, quite effectively, out of her reach.

    Allee and I have developed a bit of a dad-spoils-little-girl relationship. Again, I'm not too proud to admit it. Even as I write this, she is sitting on my lap inside my arms, almost as if she is watching for anything bad that I might write about her. I've told Nichole about some of the sideways glances I get when I'm watching her and take her out for a walk when I get done hunting. There I am, in full camouflage and face paint…walking a Boston Terrier. This is not to say that a man walking a small dog is in any way wrong, but in my case, you have to admit that it paints a pretty amusing picture. If you saw me coming out of my door, I'm quite sure that you wouldn't expect a dog like Allee to be on the end of the leash that would be in my hand. It really doesn't bother me, but I'd be lying if I told you I didn't get a kick out of viewing myself in that way.

    As I mentioned before, there is a degree of affection between the two of them. Every once in a while, the two of them will let their respective guards down just enough to show how they really feel about each other. There have been a couple of occasions when we have found them curled up together on the couch or in a bed. Yes, they're allowed on both.

    I'm not sure if Strider's relationship with Allee has changed him in any way, but I do notice a difference in him when we train with other dogs as compared to how he acts when he is around her; particularly those that are younger than him. When the training session is finished and we release them for a couple of fun bumpers, Strider is almost always the first one there. On the rare occasion that a dog beats him to a bumper, he is right on their heels to pick it up when they overrun it because they are going too fast. When he and Fowler (the one year old that we train with) go after them together, Strider will always get the bumper first, and then begins a dance of who will ultimately bring the bumper back to Rhett or myself. Usually it's that they will both have ahold of a respective end of the bumper when they finally do get back, going more than half of that distance locked in that position, neither willing to give in to the other. Strider is never that stubborn with Allee. With rare exception, he concedes to her will of being the dominant canine in our little pack.

    What does this have to do with his training? Not much. But it most certainly adds another layer of intrigue to, as you have already learned by reading previous posts, a most unique dog. Maybe one day his relationship with the little big dog will be a point of revelation for me, but for now, I'll just keep laughing.

    Until next time, give extra scratches behind the ears, and happy training!!