Kiya Natasha

When I was in my twenties I wanted to get involved in dog shows. The AKC at the time only allowed pure bred registered dogs in obedience competition so I began to look around at various breeds. The Siberian husky caught my eye right away. They were beautiful and from the working group so I figured they would make good obedience dogs. I should have talked with more owners! Beautiful yes. Hard workers yes. Obedient NO. I should have expected the stubborn independence. After all I had grown up reading "White Fang" and "Call of the Wild". I knew that the lead dog sometimes had to refuse an order because he sensed danger the sled driver might not have known about, weak ice for example. Working huskies had to have a mind of their own, but I ignored that facet of the breed and began my search for my dog. On a budget, I was interested when I saw an ad in the paper for a registered Siberian husky for only $25. I called and went to take a look. The house was a mansion with white pillars. Next to it, set under a pine tree was a dog house built to look just like the house. As I pulled into the driveway, the most perfect husky I had ever seen came out of the house and went to the end of her chain and watched with interest as I got out of the car. I almost left then. This was not a $25 dog. This was a real show dog. The owners came out then and introduced me to the dog, Kiya Natasha, two years old. They had her papers with them and showed them to me. Every dog on it was a champion. Very uncomfortable, I asked if the price was a mistake. No, they reassured me. We just want to get rid of her. I asked they why and they said they had paid $800 for her and had sent her to a professional trainer, but she just wouldn't come when called and they wanted something smarter. I had a lot of confidence in my dog training abilities so with no argument I handed over my cash and took the dog.
I had a German Shepherd at the time and he took to her right away. I traced her ancestry and her line went back to Balto of the famed Nome serum run. I took her to my dog training club and began to work with her and I was thrilled. You only had to show her something once and she got it. She heeled like a dream, sat perfectly, came when called (on a long leash) and was a perfect lady in every way. I entered her in our first dog show. The day of the show it was perfect. We entered the ring and began our run. She responded to my commands as if she was sleep walking, totally unlike our training sessions, but we were squeaking through until the long down. This is an exercise where you make your dog lie down, tell her to stay and cross to the other end of the ring and wait for three minutes till ordered to return to your dog. She lasted 30 seconds them got up and sauntered over to the judge. Disqualification!
Undaunted I entered another show. Same thing. Disqualification. Show after show. You have to qualify in three shows to win your obedience title. Finally we passed one show then a second, but then show after show we failed.  Finally after three more years (!!!!!) of showing I had all but given up but decided to try one final time at a show near my home. Right before we entered the ring I leaned over to Kiya and whispered, "A steak if you qualify and you can even pick it out". About ten of my dog training friends watched outside the ring. We made it to the final long down and behind me I could hear barely audible whispers, "Oh please let her stay put. Please, please, please". One minute, two minutes,  two and a half. Everyone was holding their breath. Yes! We did it. The dogs were called back into the ring for their scores. First place was announced to polite applause. Then second place then third, and down the line and in very last place, qualifying by 1/2 a point was Kiya Natasha. Cheering erupted from everywhere, my friends and strangers who had seen us fail year after year in other shows went crazy. My friends rushed the ring and carried us out like we were the best in show, much to the judge's mystification. It was so exciting. She was now officially Kiya Natasha, CD. Later when we went to our car to return home, Kiya, who always rode in the back jumped into the front seat and took her place as royalty. True to my word I took her to the grocery store on the way home and I took her right into the store to the stares of the other shoppers. We went straight to the meat counter. She stood up against the counter and carefully looked over the steaks. Finally she selected one, carefully lifted it out and turned and carried it to the checkout. The clerk took my money, handed the bag to Kiya and we went home. She allowed me to cook it slightly then enjoyed her reward. Thereafter she acted like royalty and went back to being the perfect dog. I  guess I should have offered her the steak four years earlier!

Bad Patient

My husband says that I am a bad patient. I dispute this. I am a very good patient if the doctor actually listens to me and also allows me to make the decisions regarding treatment. An example; I go to the doctor and give him the reason for my visit. He says "mmmmmmm" and writes out a prescription and hands it to me. He then gets up to leave the examination room.
"Wait", I say. "What is actually wrong with me and is this the only treatment and do I really need a drug for this? Is there something herbal or alternative? And what are the side effects of this drug should I choose to take it?"
At this point most doctors begin to get angry. They are used to being unchallenged and obeyed. I do not feel a stranger should make all the decisions for me. Certainly the doctor knows more than I do, but it is my body and I reserve the right to participate in  and approve any treatment. Several of my family members were of the "if the doctor says it, it must be right" attitude. It was not wise of them.
Two weeks ago I was awakened by some pretty severe chest discomfort. While quite painful and unnerving, I checked my pulse and blood pressure and they were normal. So I decided to wait and see how I felt in the morning. I sort of thought I might have had a heart attack so I went to karate class. I figure if it was my heart it would act up while taking class and if it felt better it probably wasn't my heart. (Did I mention that although I want to make my own decisions that doesn't mean they are good decisions?) I did feel better but over a few days the pain returned and I decided to go to the hospital. With a high risk family history the hospital assumed it must be my heart, but after tests they determined that it was not my heart. The second day a nurse came in, handed me a pill. I asked her what it was and what it was for. She told me it was a beta blocker to help regulate my blood pressure. I asked if my blood pressure was high and she said no. So I asked her why do I need more medicine to control my blood pressure if my blood pressure was not high. I refused the pill and then a senior nurse came and questioned me. Again I asked if my blood pressure was high and she said no so again I asked her why I need a pill for it. No answer and again I refused. Shortly after that a doctor came in and asked me why I refused the pill. Again I asked and again I was told my pressure was fine. The real reason for the pill was to cover their behinds in case I had a heart attack during the stress test. They thought I was being difficult but I think I was being reasonable.
The second day they sent me home. I asked what caused the pain which I was still having and they told me they had no idea but not to worry because it wasn't my heart. How reassuring.
I did go see my own doctor who is a very fine doctor, for a followup and he questioned me. When I explained that because I thought I might have had a heart attack I went to karate he called me a knucklehead and told my husband that he was a saint to put up with me. He says he only keeps me as a patient so he has good stories to tell if he goes to a medical convention. See? I'm not a bad patient. I'm good for something.

More on Jack

Jack is now 10 weeks old and still remarkably resistant to the no chew rule. My arms are decorated with tiny puncture marks, rather like a junkie who shoots up any old place on his arm. Yesterday he was sitting next to me on the couch and he crawled into my lap and began to lick my chin." How sweet", I thought to myself." He's learning to be gentle". That was three seconds before he launched himself at my nose. Not too much damage from that, just one nice big puncture that kind of looks like a giant zit on the end of my nose. My reading glasses are not safe either. Being a woman of a certain age I keep reading glasses all over the house. Now I have four pair of them all with the temple pieces chewed in half.  He has also begun to train me to give treats on command. I had tried to get him to pay attention by offering him a treat if he sat and looked at me. Only needed a handful of times and he got it. Now when he needs a treat he comes to me, sits in front of me and tilts his head to the side cutely while wagging his tail. How can I resist that!
His leash skills have not improved either. Ten weeks old and 25 pounds and he's still strong enough to drag me down the drive way! Pretty embarrassing when you consider that I trained and showed dogs in obedience competition at dog shows for years, though now that I think of it, a few of those dogs trained me a bit too. Perhaps I'll tell you sometime about my husky, Kiya and her rough road to her obedience title.

One tough rabbit

I was out in the yard watching Jack tracking the bunnies that play in our yard. They are rather tame, having learned that the dogs can't get through the dog run fence.  So far they pretty much ignore Jack, who I keep on the leash, unless we get too close. They are so cute and they made me think about the rabbit I had as a pet growing up. His name was Nosey, a big white rabbit. My mom got him for me one year in the hope (vain) that I would stop asking for a dog. My dad built a nice big hutch for him and Nosey got really tame after a while. I had a harness for him and I would tale him out for walks. (Like he was a dog!) We walked around the yard and the street in front of our house. Not only did I enjoy the walks so did Nosey. Somehow he figured out how to unlatch the door to his hutch and rather often I would find him impatiently stamping the porch outside the kitchen door in the morning waiting for his walk.
One morning I looked out the window and saw Nosey had again gotten out and since it was rather early, he was taking the time to munch on the little clover flowers that grew in the yard. I wasn't worried. He never left the yard on his own, so I decided to get my breakfast before our walk. I sat down at the table with my cereal to eat and looked out at him. I saw a movement at the far end of the yard and a beagle came through the tall plants there, clearly tracking. As I started to get up the dog saw my rabbit and he began to bay and run at Nosey. I dropped my spoon and ran for the door. It was locked and as I fumbled with the lock I heard the sounds of a fight. Frantic to save my rabbit, I couldn't get the door open. The noise outside escalated. Finally I managed the lock and threw open the door. I rushed into the yard expecting to see my bunny torn to shreds by the dog but what I saw was the dog being torn to shreds by my bunny! Nosey had his teeth firmly embedded in the beagle's ear and was using his back feet to kick and tear at the poor dog. The dog was already covered in long bleeding scratches and desperately trying to get away. The dog was frantic and snapping at Nosey fruitlessly and Nosey was intent on disemboweling the dog! Suddenly Nosey let go and the poor dog ran off as fast as he could, crying piteously. As I stared dumbfounded Nosey sat up on his back legs and began to groom himself, calmly wiping dog blood off his nose. He then went to the back porch climbed the stairs and sat down. As I followed him to the house, he turned and looked at me and stamped his foot impatiently. Walk Time! That was one tough bunny!

A dog I loved

Having a puppy is certainly a challenge sometimes. Jack has grown alot in two weeks. He's up to 15 pounds now and already outgrown the puppy collar I had. He loves to track rabbits in the back yard and he is not making a lot of progress in the "no teeth!" program. He is an absolute delight.
When I sit and watch him playing I can't help but think about all the wonderful dogs that have shared my life but  the one that I miss the most was Boy, a German Shepherd. I was single and in my 20's and Boy was my constant companion. I took him everywhere, even to work when I could. He was one of those dogs that seem to read your mind. He always knew what I wanted and he never disappointed. He, on his own, learned to carry groceries back from the store, without ever tearing the brown paper bags they used to use. He never needed a leash, always staying by my side. He knew when I was happy and when I needed comfort. It was like he was a living breathing piece of my soul.
All that being said, I'm glad I had him back then when people were not so quick to sue or complain, because he knew how to use his teeth and he he wasn't shy about it. He just could not tolerate a man being aggressive towards a woman. If a man yelled at a woman that earned him a level stare and a deep growl, but if the man was foolish enough to raise his hand to woman, Boy would take him down. I remember a time we were out for a walk and came around a corner just in time to see a man punch a woman in the face knocking her to the ground. Before I could react, Boy had hit the man full on, knocking him to the ground and he had his teeth firmly around the man's throat, all the while snarling. Boy kept a firm grip but didn't puncture the man's throat. I helped the woman up and took my time getting to the man. "I don't think my dog likes men who hit women." The man lay perfectly still but said, "Call him off. She made me mad." Boy bit down just a hair harder. "Please" the man said carefully. "I won't hit her again." Casually I told Boy to let go. He did immediately and backed off but didn't stop growling. I told the man that if he hit the woman again he was going to get another visit from us and the dog might get a little more rough. I even gave the woman my phone number. Today we might have gotten arrested or sued, but then all the man wanted was to get away from us.
Boy also knew just how much force was needed. Once we were on our front porch watching while two young neighbor girls played with a boy from down the street. The boy was a bit of a bully and at one point he put a pail on the younger girl's head and began to hit the pail with a stick. Boy was off the porch in a flash. He grabbed a firm mouthful of the seat of the boy jeans without getting the boy himself and set off down the street dragging the boy backwards till he reached the boy's house, then he carefully backed him up the porch to the door and shifted his eyes to me. I got the hint and rang the doorbell. In a moment the mother answered. She took in the sight of her son being firmly gripped by a large German Shepherd and said with a sigh, "What's he done now." "He was getting a little rough on the neighbor girls up by my house."
Without a word she grabbed her son, which Boy had let go of, and gave Boy a pat on the head. "Good dog" she told him."Thanks for bringing him home."
Can't picture someone being casual about that today, but then I expect the boy was going to get in trouble over scaring the little girl. Last .thing I heard as we headed to our house was, "Wait until your father gets home."






























































































































thing i heard as Boy and I headed home was a faint, "Wint until your father gets home!"

FALLS

Why is it so funny when somebody falls down? Now don't look like that. You know exactly what I mean. Don't try to deny that you've watched Funniest Home Videos (which has made a ton of money pretty much just showing people falling down) and even while you are saying, "Wow, that must have hurt!" you are laughing your head off. Admit it.There is just something so funny about how people's faces look right before they hit the ground. I remember a time my brother fell. It doesn't really qualify as a normal fall because he was hit by lightning, but did he ever go down funny.His tent was in our back yard because he was "camping" out there. We heard the far off rumblings of thunder and he decided to take his tent down before it got wet. Mom might have told him to stay in the house but she was busy doing mom things so out he went. I was watching him out the back door from the safety of the kitchen.That rumbling was nearing really fast. In seconds it was a full scale lightning storm on us and he gave up his attempt to get his tent in and decided to make a run for the house, but for some reason he decided to keep hold of the metal center pole of his tent. He stopped about six feet from the back door and looked up. His mouth dropped open and kaboom! He stood there like a roman solider at attention grasping his spear. His hair stood on end and began to smoke in little spirals. He stood like that for a good ten seconds then he went face forward into the ground, metal pole still firmly in his grasp. I began to laugh even as I heard my mom yell at me to go check on my brother. She shouted she was going to check the attic. Apparently the same lightning that hit Tim also hit the house. Seems she thought it was more important to check the house than her son. Good thing she did. The bolt set the curtains on fire and might have set the house on fire if she hadn't torn them off and stamped out the fire. Meanwhile Tim began to crawl towards the house, totally unassisted by me. I wasn't going out there! He crawled all the way to the back door and pulled himself up the steps and never did let go of his tent pole till he was in the kitchen. (And in case you were wondering, he was perfectly ok. Dr. checked him out and except for a little melted hair there was no damage.)
I also saw one of my bosses take a pretty good fall. He had run across the street for coffee and was running back when he hit a patch of ice. His foot flew up in the air and he seemed to hang there a few feet off the ground for a whole minute. Kind of like Wiley Coyote when he runs off a cliff. His mouth opened and formed a perfect O and his eyes bugged out then - wham. Down he went. I began to laugh and I opened the door as he got up. He started to hop toward the door and it just made me laugh harder. Then, just as he reached the door and tried to enter, the door slipped from my hands because I was laughing so hard and bam. It shut and he ran into it and went down again. By the time the ambulance arrived the egg on his forehead from running into the door had swelled to comical proportions and I kept giggling even while they hauled him away. Surprisingly, he didn't fire me. He kind of saw the humor in it too.
 When I took my one of my pratfalls, I slipped coming out of the grocery store.  Now, while I find falls amusing my reaction to my own falls is more along the lines of, "Dear Lord, please don't let anyone have seen that!" Unfortunately someone had. I lay there for a moment on the pavement when I heard a timid voice ask if I was okay. I opened my eyes to see a miniature old gentleman hovering over me. He was about ninety, maybe 5 foot tall and seventy pounds soaking wet. I, on the other hand am not a tiny woman. This sweet fellow insisted on trying to help me up. I said no, I was okay, but he kept insisting. All I could picture was this tiny person somehow managing to get me halfway up when his strength would give out and we would crash to the pavement together, but this time I would land on him and squash him as sure as if I had landed on a bug! Embarrassing.
One other time I took a really spectacular fall. I had just finished laying out sheets of black plastic in my garden. Our yard had quite a steep incline and somehow I slipped on the plastic, did an earth shaking belly smack and slid on my tummy ten feet down the yard and ended up head first in a rose bush. Once again I prayed no one had seen, then I heard laughter coming from my neighbor's yard. She was laughing so hard tears were running down her face. Now you tell me you wouldn't have laughed too.

Hunting

Let me say right now, I am not a hunter. Really no one in my whole family hunts. My Dad used to pretend to hunt. Every year he would get out his bow and put up hay bales in the back yard to practice on. I used to love to watch him and he got me my own bow so I could shoot with him, much to my mother's disapproval. She said it was unladylike to shoot a weapon. Can you imagine that. Here was her very own girl child who caught frogs and carried them around in pockets, who wanted to wear jeans all the time, who was the neighborhood Indian leg wrestling champion, and she thought I might be unladylike if I shot a bow and arrow. Poor woman. At any rate my dad ignored her on this and we practiced Saturday mornings.  Then bow season came around and each year my dad would get his license and plan where to hunt. He spent a lot of time checking gear and maps and talking about his hunt. And each year he would go hunting and come back without a deer. I was mystified. He always hit the target in the yard. Why couldn't the man get a deer? Then one day I just asked him and he told my why he came back without shooting anything. He said he always found a deer and every year he would quietly take aim and pull back to shoot and then the doe would lift her head and look at him. He said those eyes were so sweet and gentle he just couldn't shoot. Even as young as I was then I understood. He really just wanted to be in the woods. He didn't have the heart to be to kill something. That was alright. We kept it our secret.
When I was in college my boy friend asked me if I wanted to go hunting with him and I said sure. Turns out he wasn't after Bambi, no, he was going for bear. I was not given a gun. My job apparently was to just be there for moral support. That and to set up camp and cook the food while the "men folk" were out there facing the dangerous wild animals. On the third day the "men" said they were having no luck because I was too noisy so I was told to be sure and stay on "my" side of the mountain while they hunted in the other direction. No food needing to be prepared at the moment I decided to explore my side of the mountain. I wandered around and saw alot of wild life, deer, a fox, rabbits , a weasel and a pair of big owls. I guess it was only bear bothered by my noise. A bit after noon I came across a downed tree and behind it I saw a little cave. I decided to explore. Hunching down a bit I entered and waited for my eyes to adjust and I saw it. Just inside the cave was a bear. It wasn't a big bear but it was a bear. We stared at each other then we both screamed at the exact same moment. We sounded exactly alike! Startled by that I stopped screaming and so did he. We stared at each other for a good long minute then realizing I was standing two feet from a wild bear I screamed again .....and so did he! I back pedalled and fell on my behind just outside the cave. He tried to run past me and tripped over the tree and landed on his behind. We sat there for a moment and stared at each other from about three feet. Slowly we both stood up. Our eyes met. He seemed to say to me in that long look, "No one has to know about this, us screaming like little girls." I nodded at him and we parted, him to quieter woods and me to the camp. Turns out I was the only one to even see a bear the whole trip, but I kept the secret and I believe the bear did too.