What a difference 8 months make!

We just found this picture taken of Moxie a day or 2 after we adopted him last September. Contrast this with the one below, taken in late March, while we were taking a few days' vacation on the Russian River.

Sheep, water sports & other fun stuff

Last week Moxie got to meet some sheep. We went with our friend Susan and her dogs out to a ranch near Pleasanton. Susan's dogs had worked sheep before; Moxie had come along for an instinct test. Not surprisingly, he knew just what to do. It really was amazing to see the genetics kick in. This probably isn't something I'll pursue, at least not in the near future, but it it was enormous fun, for me as well as the Mox.

After sitting on my hands for a couple of years, I finally broke down and bought a digital SLR camera -- a Canon Digital Rebel XTI. It was sitting right there on the front seat of the Forester while Moxie was in the pen with the sheep, but I forgot to tell Elsa, who was using her trusty, venerable Olympus point'n'shoot. No shutter lag, a longer zoom and way higher megapixels would have been nice! (I'm not dissing Olympus cameras, please understand; Elsa's is 7 years old and still does a good job, but it wasn't the tool for this particular activity!)



Okay, new subject:

Those of us who live in the San Francisco Bay Area are lucky enough to have access to a number of nice dog parks where our critters can play off-leash. I like Cesar Chavez Park in Berkeley and the Alameda dog park. But Point Isabel, in Richmond, may just be the best dog park in the country -- 21 acres of grassy fields bordered on one side by the San Francisco Bay (killer views!) and bisected by a tidal channel. There's a café that serves good espresso, pastries, homemade soups and sandwiches, and Mudpuppy's Tub & Scrub, where you can bathe your dog or buy treats and toys. If you don't feel like paying for a clean dog, there's a rinse-off hose where you can get the salt and mud off for free. The park is about 16 miles from where I live, but Miko, Moxie and I find our way out there 3 or 4 times a week -- there's a Costco right next door, with the cheapest gas in the area; I use that as a partial justification. But mainly, I love Pt. Isabel and so do the dogs. Moxie only wants me to throw the ball for him, but Miko, rennaissance boy that he is, not only chases the ball, he also hunts gophers, digs holes, climbs trees and swims. Yes, that's right. I said he climbs trees. The proof is below.



Depending on the tide, there may or may not be stretches of rocky beach on the Bay side of the park. (One of the little beaches gained notoriety a few years back because that's where Lacy Peterson's body washed up!) At low tide, even non-swimming dogs can venture quite a ways from shore without having to paddle, or they can play in the thick black muck in the channel. When the tide comes in, though, the swimming is great. Moxie is only beginning to enjoy swimming; the one time he won't fetch a ball is out of the water. He kind of paddles around in circles -- maybe he's herding fish and I just can't see them! Miko, on the other hand, is a swimming fool. The one place he absolutely reliably will retrieve the ball from is out of the water.

Did I mention that he dives?

You've seen those bumperstickers that say "A bad day fishing is better than a good day at the office" -- that's how I feel about Pt. Isabel. I've been out there in the pouring rain, and when the wind off the bay just about knocked me flat. Doesn't matter. It's beautiful. Even when it's crowded it's peaceful. (Dogfights are really rare, and nearly all the people who come to the park are pleasant.) I used to listen to music or podcasts, but rarely do anymore. I go there and walk a couple of miles and just ... be. And the dogs have a blast and get a good workout at the same time.

Next week Moxie starts beginning agility classes at ACE, and Miko and I go to PowerPaws agility camp. I dreamed I was sent home from camp in disgrace, for being such a klutzy handler. Miko got to stay, of course. In my dream he was sitting on a table wearing a gold cardboard crown, like for a kids' birthday party. I woke up sweating! Miko swears he'll take good care of me, though ... and I expect he will!

Uh-oh, this is getting serious!

Miko has been in school, of one sort or another, pretty steadily since we got him in Sept. '04. He had basic and intermediate obedience, several sessions of rally obedience (a fun and interesting sport) and a class in tricks and utility skills at the Berkeley East Bay Humane Society, where we got him. He started agility classes offered through the city of Albany's rec department. This served to introduce him to the equipment, and me to the idea that this could be a lot of fun. We moved on to classes with Kathryn Horn, and then to Sandra Rogers at Ace DogSports, across the bay in Brisbane (indoor facility) or Pacifica (outdoors), depending on the weather. Sandy is very successful with her own dogs, and she's a terrific teacher. Miko has flourished under her tutelage ... even I, world's klutziest handler, am improving!


Next month (April), we'll be going to PowerPaws Agility Camp! I never went away to camp as a kid -- too busy with horse shows every weekend -- and this isn't sleep-over camp, but it'll be 3 days of intense activity, plus I'll get a Power Paws T-shirt!

Meanwhile, Moxie has had basic obedience and a trick class at the Oakland SPCA. He has recently started foundation work with Sandy. Foundation work is the training you do to get a dog ready to start actual agility training -- a lot of heel-work, stays, getting the dog to stand on different things (box, teeter-board, etc). Moxie was born to do this stuff. He literally drags me from one obstacle to the next so he can try them all. If he had his way, he'd get to climb on the "real" obstacles -- the dogwalk and A-frame -- that are shoved out of the way against the wall. His attitude is ME! LET ME!!! EVERYBODY GET OUTTA MY WAY!!!!!

So here's what my life looks like: 3 times a week I'm driving across the bay bridge, either to lessons or practice. Let's see -- the toll recently went up to $4, so that's $12/wk, plus about 2.5 gallons of gas per round trip in my Subie ... premium gas is now back up to $3.25/gallon AT COSTCO! Somebody else do the math; it makes my head hurt!

Might as Well Meet the Cats Too :-)

Scrabble, AKA Enormo-Fluff wants it known that he is Numero Uno in this household. Sky the Kitty From Hell doesn't care what I say or don't say about him. He's too busy hatching plots to make life miserable for Fantan, our housemate's cat who lives in the apartment downstairs.

Scrabble came into my life on August 26, 1996 -- a slightly belated birthday present maybe. He was maybe 6 weeks old, a ball of black and white tuxedo fluff sitting under the downspout by the patio gate, watching a parade of ants. I picked him up, he purred, that's all she wrote. I've had a lot of nice cats over the years, but Mr. Scrabs is the best. He's my guy. (Don't tell Miko, but it's true.)

When I got him, Elsa had 3 cats, and I sort of had one too, a semi-feral tabby called Bandit (cuz he had a striped tail like a racoon, sorta) who slept in a little doghouse outside on the porch, kept the ivy-covered back hillside free of rats, and wouldn't let anyone touch him but me. Elsa's cats were old, and one by one they died; Bandit met a sad and untimely end, and that left Scrabble as the only cat -- the only animal -- for a number of years. He grew into a 16-pound fluffy handsome fellow, an old soul with a sense of humor. Things strike him as funny -- I can tell.



He was horrified when we brought Miko home, and Miko wasn't quite sure what to make of the idea of sharing space with a cat. We kept them completely separated for a week, let them smell each other under the door and check out each other's scent in the living room, one at a time. Later, we blocked doorways with chairs so Scrabble could come and go while Miko was more confined. I kept dog treats in my pockets at all times, and whenever Miko would start in with the "that thing looks good to eat" stare I'd toss kibble on the ground in front of him to redirect his attention. It didn't really take long -- within a month and a half I felt confident about leaving them alone together. They get along fine, but I can't say they've ever become friends.


There was never any question: Scrabble was "Sara's cat." Wherever I went, within a few minutes there he'd be as well. Not wanting to sit in my lap, not demanding that I pet him; he'd just be there, feather-boa tail wrapped neatly around his front paws, watching me.

Enter Sky, the Kitty From Hell. What can I say? He's Frank Sinatra reincarnated, with gorgeous blue eyes. Since Scrabble's such a one-person cat, Elsa decided to get one of her own. Sky was about 9 months old when we got him from the Feral Cat Foundation, and the very clear message I take away from this experience is that the "socialization window" of kittens and puppies is even more important than I thought.



Sky was born to a feral mother and lived the first 5 or 6 months of his life in a community of stray and feral cats that an elderly woman was feeding. When she became ill, the FCF people stepped in, socializing and finding homes for as many of the cats as they could. Sky had been adopted and returned before we got him. The story was that his first family had a 2 year old, and Sky was afraid of the child. At any rate, he spent his first 2 weeks with us hiding under a dresser. We'd been told that he loved other cats, and indeed he did want to make friends with Scrabble. Unfortunately, Scrabble wasn't having any. So Sky turned his attention to Miko, and the 2 of them became great pals. They'd sleep together and groom each other -- it was really cute.


Scrabble's nose was definitely out of joint; he had enjoyed being the only cat. He and Sky had several noisy fights and then came to an accommodation of sorts. But Scrabble clearly holds me responsible for this disruption to his idyllic life.

And then, of course, we got Moxie. Cat's don't have particularly expressive faces, but I'm here to tell you that when Scrabble saw "another one of those things" coming through the patio gate, he looked aghast. And then, perhaps thinking of Miko's lengthy break-in period, he puffed himself up to twice his considerable size, unsheathed his front claws, stood up on his back feet and advanced toward Moxie, hissing. The poor dog was terrified and hid behind my legs. Satisfied he'd made his point, Scrabble sat down and gave himself a thorough grooming.

From Sky's point of view the addition of Moxie was not such a great thing either. Moxie monopolizes Miko's attention, so the sweet Sky-Miko friendship has been back-burnered somewhat. They still like each other, though. If Sky hasn't come in by the time we want to go to bed, I leash up Miko and we walk around the corner to the neighbor's yard where Sky hangs out. Sky wears a bell and we can always hear him coming, running up to his old buddy to say hello. And then he'll follow us home.


Sky's an odd one. He has a kind of street-urchin charm. I wish we'd gotten him when he was younger and could have socialized him better. Or maybe it doesn't matter; maybe he'd never have been the lap cat Elsa wanted. Several times we were at the point of taking him back to the FCF people because he was so aggressive with our housemate's cat. But he's getting better -- at least Fantan hasn't had any unexpected trips to the vet lately!

The final word of this post has to be Scrabble's. It is "Hrrrrumph!!

Take Two, They're Small!

I'm the non-dog person, remember? The one who was persuaded by a TV program on Animal Planet to get a dog, after not having had one for more than 35 years -- after never having had one of my own, that wasn't "the family dog." The one who wandered into a beginning agility class with Miko the WonderDog just to see what it was like and did her best to resist the appeal and the challenge and is still doing her best to keep from getting caught up in the competition end of it all because BT,DT with the horses, and didn't much like the person I was back then.

So yeah, that person. So what happens? We go for a drive on Labor Day weekend (hey, why not?!), with the vague notion of looking at a miniature poodle at a shelter in Santa Rosa. Really, it was just a destination. We wanted to get out of the house for the day. We took Miko; maybe we'd drop in on friends in Guerneville, let him swim in the river. Or maybe we'd go to the beach.

The poodle was a cute little dog, but some other people were there first, and besides he didn't like cats. Oh well. But while Elsa was looking at some other small dogs, one of the shelter workers found out that I did agility with Miko. Weren't Border Collies supposed to be good agility dogs? Yes indeed, said I. "You got a BeeCee?" They did, or anyway a BC/Australian Shepherd mix. Cat friendly, people super-friendly; he and Miko played happily together in the field behind the shelter. And so, although I'd said I didn't want a border collie (too OCD for me! the best thing about Miko is that he isn't a BC!), I went home that day with one in the back of the car.

He was pretty skinny because he'd been in the hospital with kennel cough (and later turned out to be giardia positive -- yikes!), and had really, really bad hair. I expect his coat had been badly matted and maybe full of burrs, so someone took the kitchen shears to him. In the pictures on this page, he's gained nearly 4 lbs (bringing him up to just a little over 40), and while his coat isn't exactly great, it's much better than it was. I'm hoping that in the spring when he sheds out, his summer coat will look shiny and nice.

All we were told about Miko's life before we got him was that he'd been picked up as a stray. He was housebroken and pretty well socialized, so he'd been some(careless)body's dog at some point in his young life. We don't know much about Moxie's past, either, except that it must have been sad. How he came to be in the shelter was like this: One night in July '06, a car was observed driving slowly down a road. It stopped. A door opened. A dog came flying out head over heels, over a fence into a back yard. The door closed, the car sped away. There were witnesses, but no one got the license number. As it happened, the owner of the backyard sometimes fostered dogs for the shelter. She kept her sudden visitor for 2 weeks, during which she learned that he was sweet tempered, affectionate, housebroken, crate-trained, and would sit and lie down on command. Who on earth would literally throw away such a great little dog?

I imagine it was a case of someone being beguiled by a cute little black puppy, and having no idea what an adolescent border collie would be like in an apartment, or house with small yard -- not enough exercise, not enough mental challenge ... Moxie is a handful even now.

He is not the small couch-potato 2nd dog we probably should have gotten. But Miko would probably have made that dog's life miserable. He and Moxie are well matched, size and energy-wise. Try as they might, they can't quite tire each other out, but they do take the edge off till it's time for a training session or a trip to the park.


Come on and throw the freakin ball, wouldja??!!

Moxie hasn't started formal agility training yet, but I take him to the practice field with Miko most weekends and he's gonna be a pistol. He's fast, of course, and focused, and fearless. Best of all, he loves the whole process. His favorite things are the contact obstacles, especially the dogwalk; he'll self-reward by running back and forth over that 6 or 8 times if I let him (not that I always have much choice!) He likes the tunnels too, and even the teeter, which a lot of dogs hate. I think he'll be a good jumper too, though right now he tends to run so fast that he flattens out. We're working on it.

How this all came to be...

Everyone who knows anything about me at all, knows that I'm a Cat Person who used to be a Horse (and Cat) person, who has no use whatever for dogs. None. So how on earth did I end up with not one but two high-energy canines of the train me and give me jobs to do or I'll destroy your house variety? I swear it's from watching Animal Planet! There was a program, kind of a mini-series, on late at night a few years ago, called "Cell Dogs." Maybe you saw it. The show highlighted inmates in various prisons who were in a program in which they learned to train dogs rescued from animal shelters to be service dogs for the disabled, or in some cases just good companion animals. In the first show I watched, 6 or 8 guys with little or no experience in dog training were paired with dogs straight from the pound, with the goal of turning those dogs into helpers for disabled people. The dogs learned to open and close doors, turn lights off and on, pick up dropped objects, take laundry out of the dryer and all manner of other useful activities. I thought it was about the coolest thing I'd seen in a long time, and I knew there was no way I was going to get Scrabble, my cat, to lift a paw to help me. Maybe I should get a ... dog?

But where? How big and what kind? Male or female? My cats have pretty much all simply found their way into my life, kittens dumped on my doorstep. They appeared. I fed them. They stayed. About dogs, though, all I knew was to avoid the puppy mills. There are a number of excellent rescue organizations around here, so we went to a mobile adoption one Saturday in September of 2004. We were charmed by a comical-looking corgi-german shepherd (?) mix, but he had some health issues and by the next morning when we had decided we wanted to take him anyway, someone else had given him a home. I was surprised at how disappointed I felt.

Long story short, we ended up that afternoon at the Berkeley East Bay Humane Society,where Miko was waiting. He was about 9 months old, a maybe shepherd mix, maybe dobie mix, the shelter people said. Later we learned he's an Australian Kelpie mix. (I'd never heard of kelpies -- they herd cattle and sheep in the outback. We don't know what the not-kelpie part is; some kind of hunting dog -- pointer or hound, perhaps, because of his talented sniffer and high prey drive.) About 45 lbs, a bit bigger than we'd planned, playful and energetic but sweet tempered. We jumped through all the necessary hoops (BEBHS is really careful about where they place their animals), and the following Tuesday our new dog came home with us.

Getting him and Scrabble to co-exist took some time, and is worth an entry of its own.

Miko started basic obedience classes immediately after we got him, and he's been in school one way or another pretty steadily ever since. He's an exceptionally smart and very willing dog. But while he as learned a few utility skills -- he'll pick up things I drop, he'll bring me my shoes, turn on a pressure-sensitive light with his paw etc -- and some cute tricks, for the past year or a little more we've been concentrating on the sport of agility. This seems like a natural progression to me, since when I had horses, they were jumpers. Makes sense to train my dog to jump too! And run through tunnels and climb A-frames and do all that other fun stuff.

And here we are.