Handsome Boy

Dog Blog Post #418: Nope - the picture above has absolutely nothing to do with the Daily Shoot. But I don't often see (or at least capture) that look on Zachary face, and just couldn't resist sharing.

This is NOT a cookie look (no drool).
This is NOT a Lacrosse Ball look (no laser eyes).

This is a "squirrel in the trees" look - with his head up, his eyes focused, but lacking the obsessive intensity that marks the Lacrosse Ball shots.

If only I had remembered to decrease my shutter speed (increase exposure time), which was left over from this sunny's afternoon's Daily Shoot assignment...

Make a photograph today featuring a hand.

The winning shot?

But it was a hard call for me. I came very close to picking:

Seeing the boys in a row behind the ball was just too funny, but it was a terrible picture of a hand.

Did someone mention laser eyes?

And now for something completely different... from Scavenge Challenge, we have:

#25) "Education Center: In the days before digital cameras and photo processing software, photographers often used fabrics, grids and oils on glass as creative filters to achieve soft or sparkly effects. This month, try one of these ideas!"

Yup. I wrapped a piece of sheer fabric around the lens and made a blurry picture of a weed.

Hmm....

© 2011 BZ Training - All Rights Reserved

Pogo Puppy

Dog Blog Post #194: Have you ever noticed how stealthy bad habits are?

It starts with something small, some little thing, barely noticeable, hardly worth mentioning, that you figure will pass with time...

But it doesn't.

Soon that one "special treat", that little Hershey's Special Dark Nugget (with Almonds!),  turns into a nightly occurrence, evolves into an after meal necessity, and soon you are rummaging around in your closet for your Fat Jeans, wondering where your figure went.

(Metaphorically, of course. Hypothetically. Yes, well, moving right along...)

It started with a happy greeting. The sort any puppy owner would love to receive. An excited little face attached to a wiggly little body just begging to be petted and loved.

And he was.
And it was good.
And then things changed.

Soon that excited little face and wiggly little body just begging to be petted and loved started hopping about. Little hops at first. A hop here, a hop there, a chew on Uncle Zachary's ear.

It was cute.
It didn't bother me.
And then things changed.

Today, when I walked in the house, that excited little face and wiggly little body just begging to be petted and loved jumped several feet of the ground. Straight up. And managed to plant his paws on... well... let's just say a guy wouldn't understand.

And it wasn't so cute.
And it did bother me.
And things are going to have to change.

Yes, folks, it seems I am now the proud(?) owner of a teenage Pogo Puppy.

(Did you know that the world record for height on a pogo stick is over 7 feet 6 inches?)

As so tomorrow night it will begin - a cold shoulder on my part, turning away from that excited little face and wiggly little body just begging to be petted and loved...

... and least until all four paws are back on the ground. I guess we'll call it Pogo Zen.

(I have a sneaking suspicion this is going to be harder on me than on Henry!)

Blink Blink Blink

Duck Zen - update

Well, it's been a week since we started practicing Duck Zen and I'm pleased to say it's going well.

Well for me, at least.

The first few days were pretty a much a repeat of the first, with quite a few demanding barks, quite a few perplexed looks when I didn't budge, and ultimately... silence.

I knew we were making real progress the day he DIDN'T stop barking. Ah, the Extinction Burst. I knew it would come, as Beau was a rather difficult teenager and we had experienced more than our fair share of Extinction Bursts during those trying months.

As those things go, it was absurdly tame - perhaps a sign of his (long awaited) maturity. I spent 5 minutes or so standing by the Kitchen table, with him stopping only long enough for me to twitch in the direction of the bookcase before he started barking again.

He stopped, I twitched. I twitched, he barked.

Repeat...
    Repeat...
         Repeat...

Poor guy, he did his best to appear non-demanding. He averted his gaze, stared at the floor, then stared at the wall, then backed out of the room altogether. He tried a whimper-bark, a whine-bark, a half-howl bark, and then a cute little muffled bark I'd never heard before.

No joy.

Finally, after I was beginning to wonder if we would even have time to play (or equally if Zachary was going to get disgusted and try to deck him) he just stopped.

That was three days ago, and the barking hasn't returned.

No barks.
No whimpers.
No whines.
No half-howl barks.

Not even the cute little muffled bark.

Just beautiful silence.

I don't know if things will stay quiet or if he will regress again. I do know that I won't let him get away with regressing!

... as for him barking while Zachary is finding the Duck? I've changed things up so that Zachary is now looking for the Duck in a room out of sight of Beau. That stopped the barking during the "find" part. During the "victory laps" (wherein Zachary zoomies around the room proudly displaying Duck and causing it to quack) I've been keeping Beau's attention riveted on a cookie and his butt firmly on the floor.

It seems to be working.

Once Beau figures out that Quiet Dogs Get Cookies, I think peace will return to our happy little kingdom...

... unless you happen to be a Duck.

Tale of Zen - Duck

I love hearing other people's Zen stories (Zen treats, Zen doors, Zen friends...) so here is my own (latest) Tale of Zen.

""Zen", as we use the word in dog training, is so important as to be virtually the foundation of civilization. It means "self-control"."

Sue Ailsby - Training Levels

With the yard still a mixture of mostly mud with only the occasional tuft of green, we've moved lunchtime play indoors. Specifically, we are playing "Find the Duck!"

The rules are simple. The dogs eat their lunch, lounge around while hubby and I enjoy our lunch, wait until the Yard Duty (hubby) cleans up the yard (a hold-over from sunny days when Fetch was the order of the day), wait until I clean up the Kitchen, and then (and only then) the moment arrives.

I walk over to the sacred bookcase and withdraw the sacrificial Duck from his box, which was specially designed to keep the very loved and very wet duck from ruining said sacred bookcase between sessions.

Beau goes first (of course) and Zachary waits (semi-patiently) behind a loosely laid baby-gate until his turn. After 2-3 finds, we repeat with Zachary (Beau waiting much less patiently) and then everybody gets a cookie while the Duck retires for a much needed rest until the 'morrow.

Lately, however, this (semi) peaceful, always joyous, mid-day break has taken an ugly turn.

Enter: The Barker.

It should be understood that neither of my boys are ordinarily vocal. Zachary will bark at thumps - although he's improving - and that's about it. Beau is the epitome of silence.

Was the epitome silence.

It started with just an excited bark or two as I extracted the Duck from his sacred cubby. Over the next few days and weeks it grew into a running commentary as I walk toward the bookcase and until Sir Beau got his turn. As Beau was otherwise as quiet as mouse, and it was nice to know he really enjoyed the activity, I let it slide.

Until today.

Today, as I stood up from the table, he looked right at me, and began to bark. And bark. And bark some more.

Now Beau is a big dog. He is all dog. And when he wants to be heard, he can definitely sound off like... well, you get the idea.

And he did. Repeatedly.

"Hmmm...," I thought, "I guess I should do something about that." (ok - let's see you think deep thoughts with a field howitzer going off nearby.)

I stood there a moment or two longer (bark, bark, bark, bark, bark, bark, bark...) - and then it hit me.

Zen!!!

I needed Duck Zen.

So I just stood there and I waited.

I didn't really need to wait that long. Beau gave it few more and then quit, looking a tad perplexed.

(Silence)

I took a step.

Bark, bark, bark...

And I was already back to my chair.

Bark, bark?

(Silence)

I took a step, and another.

Bark, bark, bark...

And back to the chair I went.

Bark?

(Silence)

Three steps. Bark. Return. Silence. Four steps. Bark. Return. Silence.

Somewhere on the 7-8th try, there was Silence. Pure silence. Silence as I walked to the bookcase. Silence as I picked up the duck. Silence as I put up the baby-gate.

I love Duck Zen.

(now if only I could figure out how to shut him up when it's Zachary's turn to "Find The Duck!")