For about eight months, we had no idea what this was. Our standard would have two perfect weeks with no digestive problems, then throw everything up at 4:00 am. He would eat grass for a few days too. He would poop normally for weeks, but then have diarrhea for a day or two. And he would scoot across the floor, something I thought was due to full anal sacs.
His low-fat diet was not the problem, we had observed that the diarrhea and vomiting was not food-specific. Like many standard schnauzers, Kafka had always had excellent appetite, even during these bouts. Neither was he ingesting anything other than food... since various x-rays had shown nothing, and I had been supervising his play.
So the mystery deepened as he matured. Over time I stopped taking him to the vet as this happened, it was simply too expensive and they were about to diagnose irritable bowel syndrome. One day I saw him straining and had to help him poop since I had noticed it was not falling off. As I used a bag to literally pull it out, I noticed some strange fibers, and even strings coming out. They were too short to cause a surgical intervention, but long enough to cause distress. We went home and I started looking for the source of these fibers.
Half of his toys were made of rubber. He also had a Wubba Kong, but after four months it was still basically intact. I would ocassionally bring him stuffed toys from the drugstore, but he ripped these in pieces and I threw away the stuffing. The rope toys did not degrade in this way. And then I found it. It was an extra tough toy made of reinforced ballistic nylon that he had tried to rip. Somehow, he was swallowing these fibers, and only a few at a time could cause this distress.
I made an experiment and removed the extra-tough toy. For the next few weeks his digestion was normal. Then a couple of months passed and no more vomiting, scooting, or diarrhea. I no longer let him play with toys made of this material, and give him bully sticks so that he can chew himself to sleep. And the best part...I have not had to help him poop anymore!
Monday, December 07, 2009
Tuesday, December 01, 2009
The Beard
His four-inch beard draws a lot of comments, most of them good. But there are a few people every now and then who ask me to cut it:
"Doesn't the floor get all wet?"
"Can he eat with all that hair?"
"Trust me, he'll be a whole lot happier!"
The answer is, maybe. But Kafka is grey-black. Many people are instictively afraid of a 60 lb black or nearly black dog. The one thing that makes them smile? His beard. His natural, floppy ears also get positive comments, but it is the beard what makes people smile. I could add that this long beard is a very distictive characteristic of the breed, but I'd be accused of placing aesthetics ahead of my dog's happiness. Yet it would be hard to find a schnauzer owner who did not fall in love with those schnauzer looks in the first place. So, yes, I am guilty of wanting my dog to look like a standard schnauzer. Not a show dog standard schnauzer, just like a pet standard schnauzer. The difference is about 20 less hours per week of grooming. Of the 4-5 hours of grooming per week I spend on Kafka, about one fifth is spent on his beard.
There's the washing, every other day for us lazy pet owners. When you don't wash it, it becomes stiff with food fat and dirt, giving the beard a spiky appearance. And just water won't do. We use a hypoallergenic shampoo to enable the frequent washings, which by the way, is really hard to do over the bathtub (try the toilet instead) if you can't be outdoors.
A dirty beard is hard to comb. Combing is the other mandatory grooming action you'll perform. You don't want to foster the development of fuzzballs that turn into major knots. Once when I tackled the matter after two back-to-back business trips (a total of ten days without combing), I was able to pull out about forty of such knots. This was possible because I trained Kafka very early to expect combing and to put up with it. Leave the beard alone for longer and you'll have to cut out the hair, or worse, clip it.
Something that the standard schnauzer book didn't say: You'll be parting the beard frequently, in search of weeds and pests. Foxtails can become embedded, and ticks can get lost in this black forest. It helps to inspect as you go. We often stop at a bench at the dog park so I can get rid of weeds before we get home. There is a certain finger motion you must master in order to remove such weeds and avoid pulling the very sensitive beard hairs, otherwise smart schnauzers learn to avoid your probing hand. If you must use a comb, spray first with conditioner (and for this, The Stuff is the best).
Kafka's beard can grow longer, but I keep it at four inches because it looks better, it gets rid of split ends, and it is easier to comb. Every six months or so I take a pair of thinning scissors and trim it in a natural pattern. Then, when we go to the park, we can listen to the kids say, "look, there's a doggie with a beard!"
"Doesn't the floor get all wet?"
"Can he eat with all that hair?"
"Trust me, he'll be a whole lot happier!"
The answer is, maybe. But Kafka is grey-black. Many people are instictively afraid of a 60 lb black or nearly black dog. The one thing that makes them smile? His beard. His natural, floppy ears also get positive comments, but it is the beard what makes people smile. I could add that this long beard is a very distictive characteristic of the breed, but I'd be accused of placing aesthetics ahead of my dog's happiness. Yet it would be hard to find a schnauzer owner who did not fall in love with those schnauzer looks in the first place. So, yes, I am guilty of wanting my dog to look like a standard schnauzer. Not a show dog standard schnauzer, just like a pet standard schnauzer. The difference is about 20 less hours per week of grooming. Of the 4-5 hours of grooming per week I spend on Kafka, about one fifth is spent on his beard.
There's the washing, every other day for us lazy pet owners. When you don't wash it, it becomes stiff with food fat and dirt, giving the beard a spiky appearance. And just water won't do. We use a hypoallergenic shampoo to enable the frequent washings, which by the way, is really hard to do over the bathtub (try the toilet instead) if you can't be outdoors.
A dirty beard is hard to comb. Combing is the other mandatory grooming action you'll perform. You don't want to foster the development of fuzzballs that turn into major knots. Once when I tackled the matter after two back-to-back business trips (a total of ten days without combing), I was able to pull out about forty of such knots. This was possible because I trained Kafka very early to expect combing and to put up with it. Leave the beard alone for longer and you'll have to cut out the hair, or worse, clip it.
Something that the standard schnauzer book didn't say: You'll be parting the beard frequently, in search of weeds and pests. Foxtails can become embedded, and ticks can get lost in this black forest. It helps to inspect as you go. We often stop at a bench at the dog park so I can get rid of weeds before we get home. There is a certain finger motion you must master in order to remove such weeds and avoid pulling the very sensitive beard hairs, otherwise smart schnauzers learn to avoid your probing hand. If you must use a comb, spray first with conditioner (and for this, The Stuff is the best).
Kafka's beard can grow longer, but I keep it at four inches because it looks better, it gets rid of split ends, and it is easier to comb. Every six months or so I take a pair of thinning scissors and trim it in a natural pattern. Then, when we go to the park, we can listen to the kids say, "look, there's a doggie with a beard!"
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
His First Portrait
He is now 16 months old and completely unable to sit lie or stand still for more than two minutes. Yet I wanted to do his portrait, as he is the one who accompanies me on painting trips most of the time. Thus began a series of life sketches (all interrupted because he is 16 months old and barely able to stand still), diagrams of his muscle system, and a value study followed by a color study. By the time I grabbed this small (20 x 16") canvas, I was feeling much more comfortable working from photos. A friend gave me permission to base the background on a photo of El Sobrante Ridge, and I painted the squirrel from memory. It has this tinge of magic realism, which is what I was going for.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Groom-him-Yourself Guide Part I
I am your average pet owner. I had never picked up clippers or cut human hair before owning a standard. But after realizing I would spend about $65. for a less than satisfactory cut every three months, and that my dog's face would look like a sheepdog's in between cuts, I decided to learn to do it myself. Later I found out a lot of schnauzer pet owners take this route, but back then I had the impression that only show dog owners did their own grooming.
Learning by yourself is not the quick, easy approach. And, your mistakes will be exposed at the dog park, and people who think you took your dog to a bad groomer will feel compelled to refer you to good grooming places. Let them! Just don't reveal it was you who did it. You'll need to accept the fact that you will make public mistakes because there is a steep learning curve.
So are there any free learning aids out there for the standard schnauzer owner? In a few words, yes, but they are not detailed enough. There are good descriptions on the Standard Schnauzer Club of America's website. There are also videos on You Tube you can watch, but with no closeups and very little if any narrative. They are good if you only want to learn the strokes used in clipping. Here is the best one of them, with a caveat: the groomer shaves the leg furnishings!
So as you see, if you are looking for a quality learning aid, the internet is not a good place. Go back to the Standard Schnauzer Club of America and buy their Grooming Guide and DVD to get started. This is a must if you plan to show your dog in the future, but those of us who don't show our dogs will find only the last third of the video very helpful. It is mainly oriented towards the grooming needs of show dogs. Fortunately Sylvia Hammerstrom, a conformation judge and owner of Skansen Kennels, sells a video focused on pet owner needs, but you'll have to e-mail her for the list, as it is not on her website.
Another possibility is attending a grooming workshop sponsored by your local schnauzer club, if you are fortunate enough to live near one, and if they do actually offer them. You could also pay a groomer to teach you, provided said groomer is familiar with the cut a standard should receive. Lastly, there is your breeder, if you did not rescue your dog or bought it from a pet shop. May breeders offer to help you learn how to groom, but in practice, this is easier said than done. Some breeders are very busy showing and have no time for you. Others will give you a quick demonstration and consider their duties fulfilled. And there are a few who don't even offer to help. In any case, taking your time, observing carefully and conservatively cutting until you get the hang of it will serve you better.
Once you have these learning aids in hand, study what they say in order to pick the tools that are right for your needs. Often, breeders and groomers will have favorites that they will push as the "indispensable tool." Some of them may have negotiated a deal for peddling to a captive audience. Consider what they say, but don't take their word as gospel. A cheaper tool that does the job just as well may be perfect for you. Remember that you will not be doing high volume grooming, so your tools don't need to be commercial grade. Cherrybrook sells show dog grooming supplies, (great brushes!) but I found their shipping exceedingly slow. You can find greater variety in price and lightning-fast shipping at PetEdge.
If I knew back then what I know today, I would have bought two clippers, two blades (#40 and #10), disinfecting/lubricating blade spray, one stripping knife, one metal comb, one high-quality brush, thinning scissors, regular scissors, The Stuff hair conditioner, hypoallergenic shampoo, nail clippers, a hair dryer and a grooming table. This would have more than sufficed in the beginning. As I learned more, I would have added a tiny clipper for the stop, a nail grinder, a hair vacuum and extra blades.
You don't need to have clippers and scissors to start training your pup. Your Standard will need more training than other breeds, because standards are not shy about letting you know when they are bored or annoyed. And grooming is one of those activities they might never come to enjoy. With good training, they will learn to merely tolerate your efforts! The first thing you need to get is a grooming table. Get her to pee outside first, then get her on the table and don't let her sit down. Give treats. End of first lesson. Gradually increase the time she spends standing, always handing out treats. Eventually you want to use the noose that attaches to the grooming table's arm to show your schnauzer you don't want her to move during grooming. Even if your dog can jump off the table, never let her do it. It is a discovery you don't want her to make. Always make sure she has emptied her bladder before a session, and that she is not starving. Some people walk their dogs before grooming and this is most helpful for Standard Schnauzers, if they are not so sleepy or tired that they can't stand on their feet.
Next time I will give a pet owner's perpective on tackling those first groom-him-yourself weeks, complete with some tips from experience. Of course a groomer might disagree with what I say, but that's half of the fun...
Learning by yourself is not the quick, easy approach. And, your mistakes will be exposed at the dog park, and people who think you took your dog to a bad groomer will feel compelled to refer you to good grooming places. Let them! Just don't reveal it was you who did it. You'll need to accept the fact that you will make public mistakes because there is a steep learning curve.
So are there any free learning aids out there for the standard schnauzer owner? In a few words, yes, but they are not detailed enough. There are good descriptions on the Standard Schnauzer Club of America's website. There are also videos on You Tube you can watch, but with no closeups and very little if any narrative. They are good if you only want to learn the strokes used in clipping. Here is the best one of them, with a caveat: the groomer shaves the leg furnishings!
So as you see, if you are looking for a quality learning aid, the internet is not a good place. Go back to the Standard Schnauzer Club of America and buy their Grooming Guide and DVD to get started. This is a must if you plan to show your dog in the future, but those of us who don't show our dogs will find only the last third of the video very helpful. It is mainly oriented towards the grooming needs of show dogs. Fortunately Sylvia Hammerstrom, a conformation judge and owner of Skansen Kennels, sells a video focused on pet owner needs, but you'll have to e-mail her for the list, as it is not on her website.
Another possibility is attending a grooming workshop sponsored by your local schnauzer club, if you are fortunate enough to live near one, and if they do actually offer them. You could also pay a groomer to teach you, provided said groomer is familiar with the cut a standard should receive. Lastly, there is your breeder, if you did not rescue your dog or bought it from a pet shop. May breeders offer to help you learn how to groom, but in practice, this is easier said than done. Some breeders are very busy showing and have no time for you. Others will give you a quick demonstration and consider their duties fulfilled. And there are a few who don't even offer to help. In any case, taking your time, observing carefully and conservatively cutting until you get the hang of it will serve you better.
Once you have these learning aids in hand, study what they say in order to pick the tools that are right for your needs. Often, breeders and groomers will have favorites that they will push as the "indispensable tool." Some of them may have negotiated a deal for peddling to a captive audience. Consider what they say, but don't take their word as gospel. A cheaper tool that does the job just as well may be perfect for you. Remember that you will not be doing high volume grooming, so your tools don't need to be commercial grade. Cherrybrook sells show dog grooming supplies, (great brushes!) but I found their shipping exceedingly slow. You can find greater variety in price and lightning-fast shipping at PetEdge.
If I knew back then what I know today, I would have bought two clippers, two blades (#40 and #10), disinfecting/lubricating blade spray, one stripping knife, one metal comb, one high-quality brush, thinning scissors, regular scissors, The Stuff hair conditioner, hypoallergenic shampoo, nail clippers, a hair dryer and a grooming table. This would have more than sufficed in the beginning. As I learned more, I would have added a tiny clipper for the stop, a nail grinder, a hair vacuum and extra blades.
You don't need to have clippers and scissors to start training your pup. Your Standard will need more training than other breeds, because standards are not shy about letting you know when they are bored or annoyed. And grooming is one of those activities they might never come to enjoy. With good training, they will learn to merely tolerate your efforts! The first thing you need to get is a grooming table. Get her to pee outside first, then get her on the table and don't let her sit down. Give treats. End of first lesson. Gradually increase the time she spends standing, always handing out treats. Eventually you want to use the noose that attaches to the grooming table's arm to show your schnauzer you don't want her to move during grooming. Even if your dog can jump off the table, never let her do it. It is a discovery you don't want her to make. Always make sure she has emptied her bladder before a session, and that she is not starving. Some people walk their dogs before grooming and this is most helpful for Standard Schnauzers, if they are not so sleepy or tired that they can't stand on their feet.
Next time I will give a pet owner's perpective on tackling those first groom-him-yourself weeks, complete with some tips from experience. Of course a groomer might disagree with what I say, but that's half of the fun...
Thursday, August 27, 2009
South Lake Tahoe
Kafka does not swim. He likes to wade in the water up to chest height, and that's it. We've used the Cesar Millan method of having him be in the company of other canine swimmers while we offer enticing treats and toys to get him to take the plunge into deeper waters. But we don't own a pool, and over here the weather does not encourage pool ownership. So we depend on visits to the Albany Bulb, Point Pinole and Point Isabel, where the transition into swimmable waters is sudden. Go in a couple of feet and boom, if you're a dog you have to swim. Not good for risk-averse Schnauzies!
So we were really looking forward to spending a couple of end-of-summer days with Kafka in South Lake Tahoe. There's a brand-new dog beach right in town, in Reagan Beach. There is the expanse and warmer waters of the two Echo Lakes. And there is, of course, Kiva Beach.
Before we even hit town, we decided to go for a water taxi crossing the Echo Lakes. Only one problem: Kafka has never been on a boat of any size. Since he is sometimes suspicious of never-seen-before machinery, vehicles and procedures, we leashed him to me. I gave him a tour of the pier beforehand. Once he was sure boats were not living beings, I secured his leash to my waist and stepped into the ten-person boat, for the ten-minute trip across gorgeous manganese blue waters. We sat him on the floor between our legs. At first we was more interested in the motor's hum, but once he discovered the boat displaced water, he climbed onto the bench to get a taste. Not wanting to encourage this newfound feeling of freedom to experiment, I sat him down but let him look between our shoulders.
The lower Echo Lake waters were pristine and warm, albeit full of over-equipped day hikers. I stepped in with him leashed, being careful never to pull him into deeper waters beyond his comfort level. I had brought a long rope because I was afraid of letting K off leash in Desolation Wilderness. So I used it to encourage him to venture into the lake waters without feeling so restricted. He was curious about the fish under the pier but never ventured deeper. Neither Canada geese in the distance, nor the sight of a golden retriever and a labrador frolicking with abandon near the pier coaxed him to float.
Once in town, we took him to the Bijou off-leash dog park, with separate areas for small and big dogs. The big dog area welcomes all dogs. The small dog area only welcomes small dogs. Feeling relieved no aggressive little dog would attack my Kafka, I sent him to this park with Sarah and my mom while I recovered from a high altitude headache. The big dog area's ground, they reported, was covered in bark and had bag stations, but there were no more than a few pines, a fire hydrant, and a water station. The small dog area had a water station, green grass, cement pathways, and deciduous trees. Damn! Kafka did well at the big dog area, but from time to time would gaze longingly at the small dog park. Who wouldn't?
Early next day, and before the arrival of labs and golden retrievers, we tried the new Regan beach area for dogs. The dog part of Regan beach is flat and muddy and the water available to dogs is cordoned-off, too small for medium to big dogs, and way too shallow for a water dog to swim in. I guess if you live in the city of South Lake Tahoe without a car, and your dog needs a dip it will do nicely. K enjoyed the flat muddy sand by running at top speed across the whole expanse in what seemed like seconds. There are bushes full of wildlife to either side of this beach, and we promptly beat it after we realize Kafka's interest was not the water but the many birds in it.
We made it to Kiva Beach after lunch, and after finding out that Fallen Leaf Lake is not dog-friendly unless you own waterfront property. After all of this, Kiva Beach seemed like heaven. A view to die for, clean orange sand, lots of shade and clean lake water that was not too deep or too shallow for a nervous canine teenager. But the beach was pretty populated with all types of dogs at the time we arrived, and we kept Kafka on leash most of the time. I ventured with him into the cool waters but again, he did not want to go deeper than his chest, not even while I offered him tasty chicken leftovers. And by now you know that this schnauzer is not a retriever. So we tied him to a long rope, and let him explore and relax, meaning that he barked at anyone near me while I painted, and that he tried to snatch away the toys that poor retrievers dared to bring ashore.
Our "teach Kafka to swim" adventure concluded the following morning at Kiva Beach. We arrived early and set him loose because there were no small dogs around. He made the most of this freedom getting in the water by himself, farther than he had ever been! All because he had seen a family of ducks swimming by that he of course could not reach by wading. After that, he retrieved big sticks from the water that Sarah and my mom tossed for him, and we discovered That this time he was much more comfortable going deeper. We were happy for him, and as we watched him sleep on the back seat during the long drive back, we knew it would take more hours of gentle coaxing before he lost his fear of swimming, but that there is a chance he'll learn.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Beauty
Is canine beauty dangerous, or is it beneficial? I am not talking about the dangers of breeding solely for conformation, as this subject has been covered by the BBC and many authors. I'm referring to individual dogs and their owners, irrespective of whether the dog approaches the standard for its breed or not.
People stare at Kafka all the time and say he is beautiful, yet Standard Schnauzers are not known as a beautiful or even popular breed. They are a working breed. They were not selected as part of the "15 most beautiful dog breeds" by Eukanuba. I often wonder if the beauty people see in my dog is related to having a groomer at home to take care of his looks, or if it is about having an uncommon hair color, or if it is about the relative rarity of the breed. And I wonder, was it such a good idea to own a beautiful dog?
While walking him almost a year ago, I heard a stranger shout across the street, "Never seen one like him, bet that's an expensive dog!!" I cannot leave him tied to a post outside a store while I run an errand. Neither do I ever leave him alone in the truck. Like all dog owners, I worry that he'll escape, but mostly because I think someone will grab him before he has a chance to get hit by a car.
People attracted to his looks will stop us, and will tell me after a while that they've been thinking about getting a new dog. They ask me about his temperament, grooming needs and health. Most of them are unfamiliar with standard schnauzers. They keep commenting about how good he looks, and I know then that nothing I say will dissuade them from considering this breed when the time comes.
At the pet supply store, mesmerized salespeople are constantly amazed to discover he knows how to sit, because they are so busy looking at him. The in-house groomers walk out of their stations to see who are we talking about. And he does not have to do much to get a treat! Other dogs are asked to perform tricks, even the big ones. But I guess the standards are abismally low for flashy dogs. Beautiful dogs are only expected, well, to be beautiful, not even affectionate, another surprise for the salespeople. If they are not already petting him, most stare and mumble:
What breed is he?
Is this his natural hair growth pattern or is he groomed?
Is he a show dog?
I tell everyone how far from the standard his looks are, much daily work his grooming involves, how stubborn he is despite all kinds of interventions, and how much exercise does he demand. They do not hear me.
Because of his not-so-common looks, he will never be able to fly below the radar. He's a high profile guy. When he does not behave well it is big news, because people remember what he looks like. "Oh yeah, the terrier dog, grey and black, he went that way with your dog's toy. Look, he's in the water now."
People stare at Kafka all the time and say he is beautiful, yet Standard Schnauzers are not known as a beautiful or even popular breed. They are a working breed. They were not selected as part of the "15 most beautiful dog breeds" by Eukanuba. I often wonder if the beauty people see in my dog is related to having a groomer at home to take care of his looks, or if it is about having an uncommon hair color, or if it is about the relative rarity of the breed. And I wonder, was it such a good idea to own a beautiful dog?
While walking him almost a year ago, I heard a stranger shout across the street, "Never seen one like him, bet that's an expensive dog!!" I cannot leave him tied to a post outside a store while I run an errand. Neither do I ever leave him alone in the truck. Like all dog owners, I worry that he'll escape, but mostly because I think someone will grab him before he has a chance to get hit by a car.
People attracted to his looks will stop us, and will tell me after a while that they've been thinking about getting a new dog. They ask me about his temperament, grooming needs and health. Most of them are unfamiliar with standard schnauzers. They keep commenting about how good he looks, and I know then that nothing I say will dissuade them from considering this breed when the time comes.
At the pet supply store, mesmerized salespeople are constantly amazed to discover he knows how to sit, because they are so busy looking at him. The in-house groomers walk out of their stations to see who are we talking about. And he does not have to do much to get a treat! Other dogs are asked to perform tricks, even the big ones. But I guess the standards are abismally low for flashy dogs. Beautiful dogs are only expected, well, to be beautiful, not even affectionate, another surprise for the salespeople. If they are not already petting him, most stare and mumble:
What breed is he?
Is this his natural hair growth pattern or is he groomed?
Is he a show dog?
I tell everyone how far from the standard his looks are, much daily work his grooming involves, how stubborn he is despite all kinds of interventions, and how much exercise does he demand. They do not hear me.
Because of his not-so-common looks, he will never be able to fly below the radar. He's a high profile guy. When he does not behave well it is big news, because people remember what he looks like. "Oh yeah, the terrier dog, grey and black, he went that way with your dog's toy. Look, he's in the water now."
Monday, August 10, 2009
Dogbook
Lately I have been interested in Dogbook, a great research tool on rare breeds. For those of you who have chosen to be "off the grid" (outside of Facebook), Dogbook is a social networking application for dog owners. Of course you can channel your dog as you write. That's half of the fun. The other half is reading the profiles for say, standard schnauzers, boxers, akitas.
Is your dog within or outside of the norm? The profiles will tell you what SS owners think is typical of their dog and you can come to your own conclusions. For standard schnauzers, de-stuffing toys, wiping their dirty beard anywhere, and a very healthy appetite is typical. Barking like crazy at the sight of a small mammal, chasing squirrels and sitting like humans also ranks pretty high on the list. So now I feel better!
Ever wondered if your dog's name is unique? Do a search with your dog's name in Dogbook and find out based on the number of profiles with that name. For Kafka, out of thousands and thousands of names, I got forty returns. If you are interested in dogs in your area and their owners, you can search by location. But don't get your hopes up because this feature is yet to be debugged. If you have extra time to spend, you can create a dog group. There are serious ones, but also some mighty funny bogus groups.
Finally, for the linguists among us: it was interesting to see the myriad ways English speakers describe dog treats and naughty acts. Enjoy!
Is your dog within or outside of the norm? The profiles will tell you what SS owners think is typical of their dog and you can come to your own conclusions. For standard schnauzers, de-stuffing toys, wiping their dirty beard anywhere, and a very healthy appetite is typical. Barking like crazy at the sight of a small mammal, chasing squirrels and sitting like humans also ranks pretty high on the list. So now I feel better!
Ever wondered if your dog's name is unique? Do a search with your dog's name in Dogbook and find out based on the number of profiles with that name. For Kafka, out of thousands and thousands of names, I got forty returns. If you are interested in dogs in your area and their owners, you can search by location. But don't get your hopes up because this feature is yet to be debugged. If you have extra time to spend, you can create a dog group. There are serious ones, but also some mighty funny bogus groups.
Finally, for the linguists among us: it was interesting to see the myriad ways English speakers describe dog treats and naughty acts. Enjoy!
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
At 14 Months
He is slowly maturing. What does this mean exactly? He sees a chihuahua on a trail and stops to sniff him. When I call him, he leaves the tiny dog and follows. A woman on a wheelchair asks us to stop during a walk. She wants to pet him. I start to explain he is afraid of wheelchairs, but before I finish the sentence, he proves me wrong. He licks the woman's hand, basking in the attention. Nana, a brindle-colored pitbull and her friends, two labrador mixes, are playing at the beach. I know he wants Nana's ball, but does not even approach her. Instead, he hangs around until one of the labs gets the ball, then chases the lab.
And the best one of all: He does not need the prong collar anymore. He does not pull when he walks. He pulls when he sees a critter, and then he pulls with the same force whether he has the prong collar or a leather collar
And the best one of all: He does not need the prong collar anymore. He does not pull when he walks. He pulls when he sees a critter, and then he pulls with the same force whether he has the prong collar or a leather collar
Tuesday, July 07, 2009
Dog Friendly Hotel
We found a dog-friendly hotel in Grants Pass. We had all been through a six-hour car trip to southern Oregon. Kafka, by now a seasoned car traveler, slept through it all and woke only for three or four rest stops to drink, pee and poop on cue.
Here allow me to complain of the horrid "pet areas" in California's state highway rest stops. You have a choice: a few square feet of foxtails, or hot-coal-like gravel. The very green grass on which so much precious water is wasted is cordoned with yellow tape. No one enjoys it, as people like to sit on benches if they sit at all.
Kafka had not been introduced to the concept of a hotel... This one was part of a chain and had a bark "pet area" towards the end of one of its wings. You could take your dog out and return by opening the back door with your room key. The dog-friendly rooms had seen better days but the staff was very friendly. As soon as we came inside the room he felt the need to sniff every corner. I imagine the smells of other people and dogs must have seemed really strange to him. We brought him his bed but he did not lay in it, instead choosing a dark area directly under a small table. Then our hotel ordeal began.
Every noise was a reason to run to the door and bark to let the stranger know that inside was a guard dog ready to defend its pack. Most bewildering of all were the noises coming from the room directly above us. He just couldn't relax knowing there were people walking on the "roof," just like giant squirrels. Even the TV was a source of suspicion (unfortunately we were watching old episodes of the Twilight Zone). He would stare at the screen and jump with any noises other than human voices. Eventually we had to tie him to our bed so he would not run to the door every two minutes. It was like this that we all fell asleep at around 1 am.
The next day he awoke us bright and early for a potty run. Only that every other pet (and this hotel was the oly one in town that took pets) was out there already, competing for an area about four by twenty feet, and full of ornamental bushes. We took off, found a better spot right in front of another hotel, and returned after finding the poop bag a proper disposal. We ran into an old woman with a shaved cocker spaniel who told us he did not take well to larger dogs because he was a rescue dog, but by the time she had finished telling us this little story, he and Kafka had gone through all of their greeting rituals.
The next night Kafka fell asleep by ten, on his bed, and oblivious to all the noise generated by the town's fourth of July celebrations. Go figure.
Here allow me to complain of the horrid "pet areas" in California's state highway rest stops. You have a choice: a few square feet of foxtails, or hot-coal-like gravel. The very green grass on which so much precious water is wasted is cordoned with yellow tape. No one enjoys it, as people like to sit on benches if they sit at all.
Kafka had not been introduced to the concept of a hotel... This one was part of a chain and had a bark "pet area" towards the end of one of its wings. You could take your dog out and return by opening the back door with your room key. The dog-friendly rooms had seen better days but the staff was very friendly. As soon as we came inside the room he felt the need to sniff every corner. I imagine the smells of other people and dogs must have seemed really strange to him. We brought him his bed but he did not lay in it, instead choosing a dark area directly under a small table. Then our hotel ordeal began.
Every noise was a reason to run to the door and bark to let the stranger know that inside was a guard dog ready to defend its pack. Most bewildering of all were the noises coming from the room directly above us. He just couldn't relax knowing there were people walking on the "roof," just like giant squirrels. Even the TV was a source of suspicion (unfortunately we were watching old episodes of the Twilight Zone). He would stare at the screen and jump with any noises other than human voices. Eventually we had to tie him to our bed so he would not run to the door every two minutes. It was like this that we all fell asleep at around 1 am.
The next day he awoke us bright and early for a potty run. Only that every other pet (and this hotel was the oly one in town that took pets) was out there already, competing for an area about four by twenty feet, and full of ornamental bushes. We took off, found a better spot right in front of another hotel, and returned after finding the poop bag a proper disposal. We ran into an old woman with a shaved cocker spaniel who told us he did not take well to larger dogs because he was a rescue dog, but by the time she had finished telling us this little story, he and Kafka had gone through all of their greeting rituals.
The next night Kafka fell asleep by ten, on his bed, and oblivious to all the noise generated by the town's fourth of July celebrations. Go figure.
Thursday, July 02, 2009
Cone Saga Part II
We left him alone for two hours with the cone on. When I returned, I found it odd that he was still sitting on the same spot, and odder still that he did not greet me at the door. Today I was to discover a new form of resistance: the hunger strike.
I went back out to do some errands. An hour later, he had not moved, nor had he decided to step into the backyard. Most alarming, he had not had a drop to drink. I made him go into the yard, and gave him some water out of my cupped hand, but I could not make him go near his water bucket. Contact between the cone and the water bucket seemed to freak him out. Same thing with his food bowl. In desperation, I made him sit in the backyard, hoping that a passing squirrel might make him forget this sorry episode. An hour later, I went out to look for him and couldn't find him. I eventually saw him, hiding under some bushes. It was then that I couldn't take it anymore and took off the cone.
The first thing he did after that was lick his sutures, so I put his plastic muzzle on. He persisted, rubbing them with the plastic. Even though I had been told was time to let them air out, I ended up bandaging his paw to avoid further irritation. This went on for the better part of the evening, with me taking off the muzzle every once in a while so he could eat or drink (think of the schnauzer beard!), and him going for his new obsession as soon as he could take off the bandage.
We didn't sleep very well that night, and I vowed to replace the cone the next morning. The prospect didn't look good, so imagining there would have been others in my situation, I checked some sites on the internet and sent for a "no-cone collar" sold by Disabled Pets. However, I still had to find a way to keep him away from his paw for the days it would take the package to arrive. I also needed to be prepared for the possibility that the new collar might not work.
On the second day, I donned gloves and a long-sleeved hoodie to be able to hold him down, putting my full body weight to work while Sarah, having figured out the right diameter, snapped it together. We suceeded on the second try. We left him alone for the better part of the morning, with the same results: total depression. No drinking or eating. In fact, he did not move from his bed. By late afternoon I was worried once more. This time, he would not even drink or eat out of my hand. So took off the cone once more. He ran to his water bucket, and could have drunk a gallon had I not stopped him periodically.
The rest of the day passed in a similar fashion, but instead of a bandage, I decided to place a thick old sock over the paw to give his sutures more of a chance to breathe. This was helpful as he did not lick them directly, and I was able to leave him without a muzzle. The sock generated a lot of sympathy during our afternoon walk near the house! The hardest part of the day was near his bed time, when his nightly chew-myself-to-sleep ritual was replaced by the new lick-myself-to-sleep obsession. So I gave him a new nylabone (ignored), stuffed toys (ignored), a bully stick (ignored), and a bone (success!) until he fell asleep at his summer solstice time of 9:00 PM.
I went back out to do some errands. An hour later, he had not moved, nor had he decided to step into the backyard. Most alarming, he had not had a drop to drink. I made him go into the yard, and gave him some water out of my cupped hand, but I could not make him go near his water bucket. Contact between the cone and the water bucket seemed to freak him out. Same thing with his food bowl. In desperation, I made him sit in the backyard, hoping that a passing squirrel might make him forget this sorry episode. An hour later, I went out to look for him and couldn't find him. I eventually saw him, hiding under some bushes. It was then that I couldn't take it anymore and took off the cone.
The first thing he did after that was lick his sutures, so I put his plastic muzzle on. He persisted, rubbing them with the plastic. Even though I had been told was time to let them air out, I ended up bandaging his paw to avoid further irritation. This went on for the better part of the evening, with me taking off the muzzle every once in a while so he could eat or drink (think of the schnauzer beard!), and him going for his new obsession as soon as he could take off the bandage.
We didn't sleep very well that night, and I vowed to replace the cone the next morning. The prospect didn't look good, so imagining there would have been others in my situation, I checked some sites on the internet and sent for a "no-cone collar" sold by Disabled Pets. However, I still had to find a way to keep him away from his paw for the days it would take the package to arrive. I also needed to be prepared for the possibility that the new collar might not work.
On the second day, I donned gloves and a long-sleeved hoodie to be able to hold him down, putting my full body weight to work while Sarah, having figured out the right diameter, snapped it together. We suceeded on the second try. We left him alone for the better part of the morning, with the same results: total depression. No drinking or eating. In fact, he did not move from his bed. By late afternoon I was worried once more. This time, he would not even drink or eat out of my hand. So took off the cone once more. He ran to his water bucket, and could have drunk a gallon had I not stopped him periodically.
The rest of the day passed in a similar fashion, but instead of a bandage, I decided to place a thick old sock over the paw to give his sutures more of a chance to breathe. This was helpful as he did not lick them directly, and I was able to leave him without a muzzle. The sock generated a lot of sympathy during our afternoon walk near the house! The hardest part of the day was near his bed time, when his nightly chew-myself-to-sleep ritual was replaced by the new lick-myself-to-sleep obsession. So I gave him a new nylabone (ignored), stuffed toys (ignored), a bully stick (ignored), and a bone (success!) until he fell asleep at his summer solstice time of 9:00 PM.
Cone of Shame
Ok, the hero in Pixar's new movie, Up, is a golden retriever. But in one of its scenes, the villain, a doberman (keep up the stereotypes!)is forced to wear what is dubbed by the pack as the "cone of shame." Yes, we are talking about the lightweight, safe, effective way to keep dogs from irritating sutures, wounds and itchy spots. At least that's what the sticker claims.
At the vet, I was also offered a "more compassionate" doughnut-shaped pillow, but I didn't buy it, thinking that my Kafka would rip it to shreds in less than two minutes. So we left the vet with the plastic cone, promptly lost on the freeway when I absent-mindedly placed it on the truck bed. We took a detour into a big-box store for pets. A very sweet sales associate offered help in putting it on, but I could not finish this sentence "Um, it my be better if you don't..." before Kafka was jumping and scratching the heck out of the young man. He had the cone in his hand and approached him suddenly from the front, perhaps thinking Kafka was a golden retriever dressed in grey. I do not know how he instinctively rejected the cone idea, and no, I was not passing on any nervousness.
So we left with the new cone, which was a transluscent baby blue in color, and had these tiny black plastic snaps. At home, he hid under the table, then buckled and thrashed violently whenever he saw us with it. When I say violently I mean that even the cable man, who was there installing our new service, had trouble holding him down. He also screamed and cried like we were going to sell him for body parts. But the cable man lifted him off the ground while we struggled with the little black snaps and this proved to be the winning combination. Only that panic caused Kafka to poop all over the kind cable guy.
At the vet, I was also offered a "more compassionate" doughnut-shaped pillow, but I didn't buy it, thinking that my Kafka would rip it to shreds in less than two minutes. So we left the vet with the plastic cone, promptly lost on the freeway when I absent-mindedly placed it on the truck bed. We took a detour into a big-box store for pets. A very sweet sales associate offered help in putting it on, but I could not finish this sentence "Um, it my be better if you don't..." before Kafka was jumping and scratching the heck out of the young man. He had the cone in his hand and approached him suddenly from the front, perhaps thinking Kafka was a golden retriever dressed in grey. I do not know how he instinctively rejected the cone idea, and no, I was not passing on any nervousness.
So we left with the new cone, which was a transluscent baby blue in color, and had these tiny black plastic snaps. At home, he hid under the table, then buckled and thrashed violently whenever he saw us with it. When I say violently I mean that even the cable man, who was there installing our new service, had trouble holding him down. He also screamed and cried like we were going to sell him for body parts. But the cable man lifted him off the ground while we struggled with the little black snaps and this proved to be the winning combination. Only that panic caused Kafka to poop all over the kind cable guy.
Wednesday, July 01, 2009
Foxtail Summer
Despite my best efforts, the day came when Kafka got a foxtail embedded between his toes. I had been warned by everyone of the chain of problems associated with this event, in fact, I had started him on daily checks as soon as he was old enough to go to a park. But foxtail checks were never his favorite activity. As with most grooming tasks, he merely tolerated my scrutiny. Up until May, the barbs had been a healthy size and easy to see, but with summer I started finding a much smaller variety. I figured his toes acted like a sieve, collecting not one or two but up to ten or twelve of the tiny spears. We had a post-park routine where he would not go in the house until I had successfully removed every tick, foxtail, and burr off his body. So I felt confident. That is, until we started preparations to move to a new house, and our routine went down the toilet.
About three days later, Kafka sat down at the entrance of his favorite park. He would not move, so I decided to check and found a tiny red bump between his front toes. We turned around while I watched, and on the way to the car I noticed the slightest limp. I had read that his called for a vet visit, but I was hesitant given the size of the bump. I made him stand in warm water, hoping that the tiny seed would come out on his own (this shows how little I knew!). Eventually I made it to the vet, where they shaved the furnishings on the affected paw. The entire paw was swollen, just beyond the tiny red bump that was the entry point. I had not seen how bad it was. To be precise, I had not checked well enough and felt awful. As Dr. Moll gave him a sedative, I was told to pick him up in the late afternoon, since Kafka was going to need surgery to remove whatever was traveling up his tissue.
Nearly four hundred dollars later, my partner Sarah watched how they carefully bandaged his two-inch incision. They gave her a paper bag with the offending foxtails, and precise instructions as to what was supposed to take place in the following two weeks. No baths or water play. No rough games or jumping. The bandage was to stay put for the next seven days. He was going to take antibiotic three times a day, and something for the pain morning and night. Most importantly, he was supposed to leave the bandage alone! The green wrap went all the way to his knee, and had a purple heart drawn with permanent marker. It was so cute that I posted a picture of it on Facebook. Everybody wished him well, but no one warned us of what would come next.
Saturday, May 09, 2009
Finally, The Good
It is not bad at all to own a standard schnauzer, and I didn't want to give that impression in my last 10 posts (just kidding!). I am, in fact, crazy about mine. Here's why, in order of importance:
1. I am now the fittest I've ever been. My bad cholesterol is way down too. There's no way you will postpone exercise with a SS. Should you choose to skip it, your home will feel the consequences.
2. We feel extremely protected. As Kafka gets older, he gets better and better at his number one job. He guards me when I'm hiking and painting outdoors. He constantly patrols our home's perimeter. He even sits behind me during dinner. And he will not let any stranger or dog touch anyone in our family.
3. They are smart. The potty training was quick and so were all the other daily routines we taught him. Standard schnauzers develop large vocabularies and an insatiable apetite for challenges.
4. Entertaining. They may not retrieve, but this breed does everything with gusto, perhaps with too much enthusiasm. This confidence makes them funny and endearing. Schnauzers will always let you know where you stand, with their voice.
5. They thrive on new experiences. Now that his fear period is over, it has become clear to me that he is not afraid of people, other dogs, much bigger animals, or even fireworks. These nerves of steel make him a great companion on urban walks.
6. Iron-clad stomachs. You can vary their diet and they adjust pretty quickly. And they have prodigious appetites.
7. Beautiful. A day does not pass that I do not hear how handsome he is from total strangers. I am an artist and I would lie if I said I didn't care about looks. I put up with the grooming schedule because I feel it is worth it in term of the beauty factor.
1. I am now the fittest I've ever been. My bad cholesterol is way down too. There's no way you will postpone exercise with a SS. Should you choose to skip it, your home will feel the consequences.
2. We feel extremely protected. As Kafka gets older, he gets better and better at his number one job. He guards me when I'm hiking and painting outdoors. He constantly patrols our home's perimeter. He even sits behind me during dinner. And he will not let any stranger or dog touch anyone in our family.
3. They are smart. The potty training was quick and so were all the other daily routines we taught him. Standard schnauzers develop large vocabularies and an insatiable apetite for challenges.
4. Entertaining. They may not retrieve, but this breed does everything with gusto, perhaps with too much enthusiasm. This confidence makes them funny and endearing. Schnauzers will always let you know where you stand, with their voice.
5. They thrive on new experiences. Now that his fear period is over, it has become clear to me that he is not afraid of people, other dogs, much bigger animals, or even fireworks. These nerves of steel make him a great companion on urban walks.
6. Iron-clad stomachs. You can vary their diet and they adjust pretty quickly. And they have prodigious appetites.
7. Beautiful. A day does not pass that I do not hear how handsome he is from total strangers. I am an artist and I would lie if I said I didn't care about looks. I put up with the grooming schedule because I feel it is worth it in term of the beauty factor.
Tuesday, May 05, 2009
The Terror of Adolescence
My dog is a teenager. He spends the day playing or sleeping. He runs through the house, knocking everything off. He argues with us when he does not like our commands. He wants to get his way and if he doesn't, he pouts and sulks. He is persistent. He has no other mission than to wait patiently for his chance to get what he wants.
In one of her manuals, champion breeder Sylvia Hammerstrom says, "I'm sorry if our introduction to the schnauzer did not give you the impression that you were going to live with the devil for his first year... at seven to eighteen months, he is like a teenager, a terror to live with."
With a teenage standard, the terror starts early. At seven am, he is already awake and SO, SO happy to see us! My morning hello consists of an entire song and dance worthy of Janet Jackson. He gets excited and would inflict many soft little bites on my arms and hands if I let him. Then he follows us around, trying to get a whiff of what we're having for breakfast, but usually he settles on the floor, focused on destroying toys right behind my chair. After breakfast, he starts asking to be let outside, but mindful that this is usually the time when most of the neighborhood birds are feeding, we wait for an hour or so least he wake the neighbors with his excited, high-pitched barking. He will point at the back door with his body, race to it and stop, and try to squeeze through if you open it. Once outside he will want to check on you after a while, to see if you've gone to that mysterious place that requires a car. Satisfied that you're still at home, he will want to be let out again, and so it goes until around 10:30 when it is...
Nap time! He will insist on taking it near you, and until he settles down will try to lick your keyboard, your work documents or your hand, whatever's nearest. His naps are short though, because he never relaxes enough, worried as he is that you might be opening the gate to the garden, or that strange men might be leaving packages at our doorstep without his permission. He takes his naps on the floor because now he is not happy with just acting out fantasies with his bed, lately he has learned to open its zipper and take out the stuffing.
The terror takes a new meaning at the park where we go for one hour a day. Yes, he gets to burn a lot of energy because he gets to run free, and that's exactly what he does for the first 45 minutes, but not without inviting every single dog he meets to play. If we could put them in human terms, his invitations would sound something like this:
"Guess what! You are so lucky you get to play with me right now. This is what we do, you run and I bump you then bite your ears. Ready?"
Needless to say, he only plays with dogs his size or bigger. When we return he is mellow for about an hour. He usually takes another short nap if the house is quiet. But wait, it is around this time when he starts noticing you have not fed him, and so he goes to the kitchen and points to his dishes, then lays in the middle of the kitchen floor in wait until the much-awaited dish arrives. After dinner he goes back to the yard where he stands watch over all the living creatures that dare come near, but soon enough he gets a second wind because it's playtime again at around 5:00 pm.
If the unfortunate monkeys gathered around the table try to eat their own dinner, he has been known to pull the tablecloth to let his plans be known. If we confine him to the back deck, he will let us know what an injustice this is. So we try to wear him down by playing fetch or tug-of-war right after our dinner. It is fun, but we are careful to not do it near anything fragile. He gets the evening walk after six pm, usually on a leash (try looking for a gray schnauzer in the waning sunset and you get the picture) and by the time he gets home, he is ready for his bed, until the next day, unless a visitor knocks on the door or passes near our house. Then his deep barks can wake up the dead!
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Attack
[A schnauzer is] never one to start a fight but always one to finish it. Barbara Dille
There are dog breeds that don't get along well with Kafka. Dalmatians, greyhounds and pit bulls. Larger dogs intimidate with size. These breeds intimidate with actions. Dalmatians and greyhounds issue warnings like any other breed, they just seem harsher. Some pit bulls don't. They go from zero to sixty in seconds.
In his 14 months, Kafka has been bitten three times, and always by under-socialized pit bulls. The first time we were at the dog park and an off-leash pit bull did not like how five-month old Kafka approached him. Instead of getting a warning, Kafka got bitten but was able to retreat unharmed. C'est la vie, I said. That's how puppies learn to respect elders. The next time, the dog was on a leash in a regional park, but he lunged as Kafka passed him on a trail. This time it was much scarier because it was so fast and because the owner has to wrestle his dog off Kafka. I didn't see Kafka defend himself.
This last time it was again at the dog park. Kafka had plopped himself on the ground and I had sat next to him. I was asking him if he was tired when we saw a pit bull catch a ball and, instead of turning around to return to his owner, circle us with the ball still on his mouth. Kafka, who was on a leash with a prong collar, growled at him. The dog lunged and Kafka lunged. They made contact and I realized I had to let go of the leash so that Kafka could defend himself. I was crying, screaming for help. I visualized which vet would I drive to and whether I could carry his sixty pounds by myself. I became aware of onlookers on the main road. The owner came running but it was almost impossible to separate them, as his dog had latched on to Kafka's neck. He had to pry his dog's jaws open and almost sit on him.
Kafka was fine if a bit nervous. I believe his size and the fact that he was not afraid helped him this time around, because he would have been chased and attacked regardless of his reaction. As we got up to leave, he tried to lunge at the pit bull again, but by then the owner was securing his harness (it was a snap-on!) and mentioning that he would be on leash from now on. I checked him and the place where the dog had latched was pink and swollen but not punctured, so I felt immensely better. I washed it with soap and water once we got home, and Kafka just laid down and went immediately to sleep.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Other Seldom Mentioned Grooming Bits
Nails
After writing about clipping and stripping it ocurred to me I have never seen a case of a dog afraid of getting her nails cut on The Dog Whisperer. It is an extremely common fear in dogs, according to my vet. Perhaps there is no way to rehabilitate a dog with this fear. What I do know is that cutting the nails of a fearful mini schnauzer in no way compares to cutting the nails of a fearful standard or giant. You will be trying to hold down a much bigger animal, a dog that knows how much physical power it has, a dog that knows how to let you know you've overstepped your boundaries. That describes my standard Kafka.
He arrived from the breeder with this fear, and there was no way to gently persuade him that the grounding tool wouldn't hurt him. He would wiggle, he would wail, and he would bark. We just could not position him in a way that would enable us to grind. Later we tried the cutting tool, but he would only let us do one or two per day if we caught him sleeping. As he grew, so did his dislike, until we could only cut one or two nails with the aid of a muzzle. Then he needed a sedative because three people at the vet could not hold him down. So size does matter. And when his nails are long and he jumps on you, it's a hazzard.
Ears
The vet came out laughing after a checkup. He was only four months old. "All I see is fur, fur, fur, down that canal!" She sold us a vinegary solution you are supposed to rinse the inner ear with. We are also supposed to stick a cotton ball in the canal to soak up any extra solution. This is once a week to prevent ear infections. He tolerates this well as it does not involve scissors or other cutting instruments.
But if you read the puppy care books out there they will tell you to invest in a pair of tweezers to pull out hair from the ear canal. The books don't tell you that sometimes this causes the follicle to bleed and that this in turn might get infected. They don't tell you many dogs hate it. But we found out.
Teeth
This is the lightest part of our grooming saga. We have been brushing his teeth since he was very little, and he loves the taste of meat-flavored toothpaste. But he bites every single toothbrush we've bought. It is a game to him: "Let's see if I can catch this foreign object in my mouth!" We have gotten him used to getting his mouth inspected (after all, he is our Master Swallower) and he allows our fingers in there, provided we keep giving him a taste of that great toothpaste...
After writing about clipping and stripping it ocurred to me I have never seen a case of a dog afraid of getting her nails cut on The Dog Whisperer. It is an extremely common fear in dogs, according to my vet. Perhaps there is no way to rehabilitate a dog with this fear. What I do know is that cutting the nails of a fearful mini schnauzer in no way compares to cutting the nails of a fearful standard or giant. You will be trying to hold down a much bigger animal, a dog that knows how much physical power it has, a dog that knows how to let you know you've overstepped your boundaries. That describes my standard Kafka.
He arrived from the breeder with this fear, and there was no way to gently persuade him that the grounding tool wouldn't hurt him. He would wiggle, he would wail, and he would bark. We just could not position him in a way that would enable us to grind. Later we tried the cutting tool, but he would only let us do one or two per day if we caught him sleeping. As he grew, so did his dislike, until we could only cut one or two nails with the aid of a muzzle. Then he needed a sedative because three people at the vet could not hold him down. So size does matter. And when his nails are long and he jumps on you, it's a hazzard.
Ears
The vet came out laughing after a checkup. He was only four months old. "All I see is fur, fur, fur, down that canal!" She sold us a vinegary solution you are supposed to rinse the inner ear with. We are also supposed to stick a cotton ball in the canal to soak up any extra solution. This is once a week to prevent ear infections. He tolerates this well as it does not involve scissors or other cutting instruments.
But if you read the puppy care books out there they will tell you to invest in a pair of tweezers to pull out hair from the ear canal. The books don't tell you that sometimes this causes the follicle to bleed and that this in turn might get infected. They don't tell you many dogs hate it. But we found out.
Teeth
This is the lightest part of our grooming saga. We have been brushing his teeth since he was very little, and he loves the taste of meat-flavored toothpaste. But he bites every single toothbrush we've bought. It is a game to him: "Let's see if I can catch this foreign object in my mouth!" We have gotten him used to getting his mouth inspected (after all, he is our Master Swallower) and he allows our fingers in there, provided we keep giving him a taste of that great toothpaste...
Monday, April 20, 2009
Clipping and Stripping
I am the average standard schnauzer owner. That is, I don't show my dog. He is solely a family pet. Before getting our dog, I did a fair amount of reading about the complex grooming requirements of the breed. I was sure I wanted him to look "like a schnauzer," meaning that I was willing to do what it took to maintain the look (with the exception of cropping the ears). At the time, I wasn't sure I would be stripping Kafka's coat, so I bought a couple of stripping tools as well as clippers. I was sure I would be using the clippers, at least for the face and under the tail, but I didn't know if I would want to strip.
Stripping
I went to a schnauzer show and loved the stripped look, so I bought a video from the Standard Schnauzer Club of America. As soon as I saw what it takes to strip a standard, I knew we would not be able to do it. The dog has to sit, without complaint, for a fair amount of time while the owner pulls out hair that needs to have grown to a certain length. It is not something you want someone else to do, unless you're rich and have lots of time on your hands or an assistant to drop off and pick up your standard (think Usher).
The video was frank. Some dogs tolerate it and some don't. It is true you need to do it by parts, or you can end up with a repetitive motion injury. Standard schnauzers are not border terriers. They are medium-sized dogs with lots of hair to pull. To add to my confusion, everything I read says the stripping knives pull out dead hair and that this does not hurt the dog, but I've now seen photos of dogs stripped to the skin. Live hairs must have had to be pulled to achieve that look. Does that mean some dogs will tolerate a fair amount of discomfort when their hair is completely pulled? I was not sold on stripping.
Then there's the issue of Kafka. It took me months of persistence and training to get him to tolerate clipping. I just don't think we could strip him, unless we muzzled drugged him. Not only is he a very determined fellow, he is BIG. When he decides he won't do something, I have to demonstrate to him that he must do it. And this takes a lot of energy. For example he hates anyone touching his nails, and every groomer in the area has refused to cut them, so now the vet does it, with a sedative. Even though a stripped coat looks wonderful and so natural, and even though you strip less frequently than you clip, I have to pass on the stripping.
Clipping
I am sorry to say clipping is no picnic either! But at least the right groomer can do it for a reasonable price, about $64. here in the Bay Area. Least you think that is too much remember the dog has to be bathed and that pepper salts and blacks are each challenging in their own ways. I clip Kafka's jacket every three months. It is true that the hair gets lighter and softer, they don't say that because they're trying to convince you to strip.
There is a steep learning curve to clipping in a manner where you will not be embarrased to take your dog out to the park the next day. I recommend watching a lot of videos (Skansen sells some and so does the SSCA), going to shows, and looking at as many pictures of show schnauzers with your dog's hair type as you can. You can't be afraid to make mistakes, and you need an assistant to hold her still. Your dog must be old enough not to get tired after 15 minutes, and trained enough to understand the concept of "you hold still for a couple of minutes at a time and then you get a treat."
All-grey pepper salts with soft american hair are easier to clip than those with german wire hair, or more contrast between light and dark areas. Mistakes are not that visible on hair that does not have a marked agouti pattern. When you are clipping a pepper salt, you must strive to cut at the same depth in similar areas. The deeper you go with the clippers, the more will the lighter undercoat show in the cut. In other words, if your cut is a mistake and you've gone deep into the coat, that area will show in a much lighter color than you would like. Similarly, transitions between clipped areas and those that aren't must be done skillfully, or there will be too much contrast between light and dark. It is bad when this happens on the face and on the elbows.
Then there's the issue of patience. Your standard schnauzer must sit for long periods of time and watch you cut with scissors around sensitive areas. Not just regular scissors, but blending scissors. Until I became more skilled with the clippers, I left a lot of work to the blending scissors, but even the best behaved dog has limits. I now use them mainly on the face and hocks.
I still like to do my own grooming, mostly because I am a visual person and I know someday I will start getting it right!
Stripping
I went to a schnauzer show and loved the stripped look, so I bought a video from the Standard Schnauzer Club of America. As soon as I saw what it takes to strip a standard, I knew we would not be able to do it. The dog has to sit, without complaint, for a fair amount of time while the owner pulls out hair that needs to have grown to a certain length. It is not something you want someone else to do, unless you're rich and have lots of time on your hands or an assistant to drop off and pick up your standard (think Usher).
The video was frank. Some dogs tolerate it and some don't. It is true you need to do it by parts, or you can end up with a repetitive motion injury. Standard schnauzers are not border terriers. They are medium-sized dogs with lots of hair to pull. To add to my confusion, everything I read says the stripping knives pull out dead hair and that this does not hurt the dog, but I've now seen photos of dogs stripped to the skin. Live hairs must have had to be pulled to achieve that look. Does that mean some dogs will tolerate a fair amount of discomfort when their hair is completely pulled? I was not sold on stripping.
Then there's the issue of Kafka. It took me months of persistence and training to get him to tolerate clipping. I just don't think we could strip him, unless we muzzled drugged him. Not only is he a very determined fellow, he is BIG. When he decides he won't do something, I have to demonstrate to him that he must do it. And this takes a lot of energy. For example he hates anyone touching his nails, and every groomer in the area has refused to cut them, so now the vet does it, with a sedative. Even though a stripped coat looks wonderful and so natural, and even though you strip less frequently than you clip, I have to pass on the stripping.
Clipping
I am sorry to say clipping is no picnic either! But at least the right groomer can do it for a reasonable price, about $64. here in the Bay Area. Least you think that is too much remember the dog has to be bathed and that pepper salts and blacks are each challenging in their own ways. I clip Kafka's jacket every three months. It is true that the hair gets lighter and softer, they don't say that because they're trying to convince you to strip.
There is a steep learning curve to clipping in a manner where you will not be embarrased to take your dog out to the park the next day. I recommend watching a lot of videos (Skansen sells some and so does the SSCA), going to shows, and looking at as many pictures of show schnauzers with your dog's hair type as you can. You can't be afraid to make mistakes, and you need an assistant to hold her still. Your dog must be old enough not to get tired after 15 minutes, and trained enough to understand the concept of "you hold still for a couple of minutes at a time and then you get a treat."
All-grey pepper salts with soft american hair are easier to clip than those with german wire hair, or more contrast between light and dark areas. Mistakes are not that visible on hair that does not have a marked agouti pattern. When you are clipping a pepper salt, you must strive to cut at the same depth in similar areas. The deeper you go with the clippers, the more will the lighter undercoat show in the cut. In other words, if your cut is a mistake and you've gone deep into the coat, that area will show in a much lighter color than you would like. Similarly, transitions between clipped areas and those that aren't must be done skillfully, or there will be too much contrast between light and dark. It is bad when this happens on the face and on the elbows.
Then there's the issue of patience. Your standard schnauzer must sit for long periods of time and watch you cut with scissors around sensitive areas. Not just regular scissors, but blending scissors. Until I became more skilled with the clippers, I left a lot of work to the blending scissors, but even the best behaved dog has limits. I now use them mainly on the face and hocks.
I still like to do my own grooming, mostly because I am a visual person and I know someday I will start getting it right!
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
The Backpack
It was a cute accessory. It was the first thing strangers noticed. It took off some of the menace off the prong collar that Kafka wears on regional park outings. It was expensive. It was a dog backpack made by Kelty.
I placed his water on two small bottles, on each side. Now that it's Spring, he gets very thirsty on our 2-3 mile walks. At first he resisted the empty backpack, jumping all over the living room while growling. You would think he was wearing a muzzle! But he gradually got used to them, and when he no longer resisted I added the bottles. I was getting him ready for summer hikes. The red backpack was a hit at the off-leash park, adding visibility and another easy mile with the water carrying capability. He carried this weight easily. Standard schnauzers are strong, heavyset dogs who can pull small carts.
We went to a favorite part of the San Pablo Ridge, where there's a rock outcropping, sage and bees. I climbed the whole hill, but he stayed midway, digging under the sagebushes until I could no longer see him. Ten minutes passed. I was upwind and he could not smell me, so I decided to descend all the way and look for him. Once I got there, I could not see him either. I called a couple of times and then saw him, halfway up the hill, without the backpack!
He came down like a goat, jumping from rock to rock, happy to be rid of this human contraption. He passed me and continued descending in front of my massive disbelief. Since he would not let me leash him (Why now in the middle of all this fun?), I realized with dismay I would have to do some rock climbing or give up the backpack. My fear of heights notwithstanding, I climbed the rocks because I remembered the backpack had our remaining water and we were 45 minutes away from the car. So I scrambled up the hill and then held to the hillside with my toes and fingers, as I climbed past a beehive and many ground squirrel holes. I looked behind every rock but I could not see the darned thing, and started to worry the backpack hiding by some unreachable rock. Just then, I saw it, grabbed it and examined it, looking for clues on how Kafka could have wriggled itself out of it. I saw none, and once more came down the hill, very carefully.
Kafka was still downhill, looking for ground squirrels. He paused for a minute when he saw the backpack in my hand. But it would be a while before I could lure him to me with water and get him to wear it again.
I placed his water on two small bottles, on each side. Now that it's Spring, he gets very thirsty on our 2-3 mile walks. At first he resisted the empty backpack, jumping all over the living room while growling. You would think he was wearing a muzzle! But he gradually got used to them, and when he no longer resisted I added the bottles. I was getting him ready for summer hikes. The red backpack was a hit at the off-leash park, adding visibility and another easy mile with the water carrying capability. He carried this weight easily. Standard schnauzers are strong, heavyset dogs who can pull small carts.
We went to a favorite part of the San Pablo Ridge, where there's a rock outcropping, sage and bees. I climbed the whole hill, but he stayed midway, digging under the sagebushes until I could no longer see him. Ten minutes passed. I was upwind and he could not smell me, so I decided to descend all the way and look for him. Once I got there, I could not see him either. I called a couple of times and then saw him, halfway up the hill, without the backpack!
He came down like a goat, jumping from rock to rock, happy to be rid of this human contraption. He passed me and continued descending in front of my massive disbelief. Since he would not let me leash him (Why now in the middle of all this fun?), I realized with dismay I would have to do some rock climbing or give up the backpack. My fear of heights notwithstanding, I climbed the rocks because I remembered the backpack had our remaining water and we were 45 minutes away from the car. So I scrambled up the hill and then held to the hillside with my toes and fingers, as I climbed past a beehive and many ground squirrel holes. I looked behind every rock but I could not see the darned thing, and started to worry the backpack hiding by some unreachable rock. Just then, I saw it, grabbed it and examined it, looking for clues on how Kafka could have wriggled itself out of it. I saw none, and once more came down the hill, very carefully.
Kafka was still downhill, looking for ground squirrels. He paused for a minute when he saw the backpack in my hand. But it would be a while before I could lure him to me with water and get him to wear it again.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Chased
This is exactly what happened in Golden Gate Park last year. Two coyotes moved
in -- most likely from Marin, by way of Golden Gate Bridge and the Presidio.
People began feeding the coyotes. They began fighting with dogs. People
complained, and the coyotes were shot.
David D. Schmidt
It was supposed to be a long Sunday hike on Alvarado Park. I packed two bottles of water to be on the safe side, put my hat on, and wore a short sleeved polo shirt because it was warmer than the previous Spring days. I kept Kafka leashed as we passed the area where the feral cat lives, and we kept on, climbing the San Pablo Bay Ridge. I didn't bring a walking stick because the ground was no longer slippery.
After about two miles, we reached an area that serves as food pantry to the park's raptors. Many ground squirrels (picas) can be simultaneously seen scampering from one hole to another. They can also be heard. Picas make a noise that sounds exactly like the tri-colored black bird's short call. Kafka was now off-leash and planning to check each and every one of those holes, I could see. But after a while, he got hot and decided to listen to my voice. He plopped down on the grass and let me leash him.
We saw a small figure approaching us from the south end of the trail. After a couple of minutes, I could tell it was a woman with four dogs, two of which were small. She was nice and asked us if we needed water, then picked up her daschund because he was tired. She left through another trail. Seconds later, a medium sized dog appreare in the distance. My brain said Dingo and I thought that perhaps he too was a member of her pack. But I quickly self-corrected: coyote!
Kafka and I beat a hasty retreat though the hills, with the coyote now focused on us. Kafka was hot and thirsty, and more curious about that strange "dog" than into cooperating. The coyote kept stalking us but kept some distance until we reached the part closer to the trailhead. Then we lost him. I was relieved. Although I knew Kafka would have defended himself, I was not about to find out who could have won. I kept thinking of the vet bills and walked faster.
Thursday, April 09, 2009
Voices and Noises
Schnauzers have a tendency to be "vocal," that is, make a friendly growling noise at people or dogs as they pass by, call for attention, demand food or a chew stick, etc. Each one of these has its own distinct noise and pitch. Paul Whitaker
I will not mention body language because this is a post about vocalizations. I had read SSs were talkative, but I had no idea we would be holding entire conversations. At almost twelve months, I can talk to Kafka in sentences. I imagine he holds out for the key works he is able to distinguish in each sentence, then he responds. He uses sound only in extreme circumstances, preferring body language most of the time. The extreme circumstances would apply if I am preventing him from doing something he wants very badly, or if I am asleep. He does the same with dogs, being at his most vocal when he is wrestling or inviting someone to play, to the point where many other owners who don't know schnauzers ask if he is aggressive.
Here are a select few from Kafka:
High to low pitch Nguuu... You've blocked my access. Shame on you.
Bow wow wowowowowowowowowowow Stranger on the premises, everyone to their stations!
With short pauses: Raff! Raff! Raff! C'mon, play with me!
With no pauses: Grrrruff, grrrruff, grrrruff! How could you show me something this scary?
Huh! Wake up monkeys, I have to pee.
Low ruff Didn't you hear me? I have to pee.
Low Grrrrrrr I'm focused on winning this tug-of-war.
High pitch bark There's a critter I have to kill. Let me go!
Long, loud Sigh I'll lay on this floor for now, since everything around here is so boring.
Loud Ruff! I have to do number two. NOW.
Wednesday, April 08, 2009
The Hater
Kafka and nine-month old Spitzy had found each other and were running back and forth along the waterline, wrestling and growling with delight. Spitzy's owner Anne had been sharing funny anecdotes about her, when a family group approached us. The fortyish man looked like an aging skinhead, with blue eyes, a shaved head and goatee. He had a black hoodie on, and black pants. The wife was standing next to him. The two blonde daughters were about ten and twelve. It was then I noticed his smiling face. He was addressing me.
"Is that your dog?"
"Yes, why?"
"Your dog bumped into me and almost bumped into my kids. If he does that one more time you're going to have problems"
"Are you serious?"
"I am. If he does that one more time you're going to have problems."
He was dead serious and was pointing to a bit of sand on his black pants, and he was no longer smiling. He must have seen the disbelief in my face, because he repeated the last sentence and pointed at the two dogs, who were playing farther away. His wife said nothing. His kids said nothing. They were all staring at me. I looked at Ann and we walked away. Just then Kafka and Spitzy decided to get into it, and I had to leash Kafka. We kept an eye on the whole group, as they ever so slowly left the beach for the parking lot.
"That was a threat, right?"
"I think so. I hope he is nice to his kids."
"And that he is not a wife beater."
Tuesday, April 07, 2009
I've Been Cooking
I've been cooking every afternoon for our standard schnauzer. I should say that perhaps a more appropriate term is "preparing food." Right now our feeding policy is an amalgam of philosophies, in the hope that he reaps the benefits of each:
Philosophy #1: What's wrong with dry food? He eats a high quality dry food in the morning, when we are too asleep to com up with anything more complex. It has the supplements he needs for the day. It does not contain wheat. And if he goes to day care, we pack a portion for the afternoon , but this is rather infrequent.
Philosophy #2: The BARF diet. He eats raw food half of the time. We buy a bag of raw chicken medallions that we defrost inside the fridge until feeding time, because we do not give him raw chicken or turkey parts to eat. He does also eat raw meaty beef bones about twice a week, but no pork bones and very little bone marrow (too fatty). Now that he's a year old, he digests these raw foods a lot better. No more gas! We do not feed him dairy or human food like sweets.
Philosophy #3: The anti-cancer diet. Kafka has loved fruits and vegetables since he was a small puppy. He eats these separate from his meals, as snacks. Very seldom do we give him biscuits or processed dog treats. because we want to equip him as best as possble to fight infections, cancer and other diseases with a variety of fresh food. We also feed him cooked proteins such as eggs, sardines, organ meats, and hamburger, mixed with barley, rice or potatoes.
Philosophy #4: The anti-obesity diet. Kafka is 22.5 inches at the withers, and 58 lbs. He is a big SS who would like you to think he's starving all the time. But with the snacks we give him, it's hard for his weight to exceed the 60 lb mark. We also measure his food with dishes made to hold exactly the amount of food he's supposed to have at each meal. When we want to do something special for him, we don't feed him treats, we take him to the beach.
I would have liked to completely follow one or another, but the tweaks have happened because of my experience with Kafka, and my realization that lots of breeders are actually paid to promote one or another brand. The good news is that he has a great appetite. This is not a breed that refuses anything edible, and that's why it's up to us humans to be careful.
Philosophy #1: What's wrong with dry food? He eats a high quality dry food in the morning, when we are too asleep to com up with anything more complex. It has the supplements he needs for the day. It does not contain wheat. And if he goes to day care, we pack a portion for the afternoon , but this is rather infrequent.
Philosophy #2: The BARF diet. He eats raw food half of the time. We buy a bag of raw chicken medallions that we defrost inside the fridge until feeding time, because we do not give him raw chicken or turkey parts to eat. He does also eat raw meaty beef bones about twice a week, but no pork bones and very little bone marrow (too fatty). Now that he's a year old, he digests these raw foods a lot better. No more gas! We do not feed him dairy or human food like sweets.
Philosophy #3: The anti-cancer diet. Kafka has loved fruits and vegetables since he was a small puppy. He eats these separate from his meals, as snacks. Very seldom do we give him biscuits or processed dog treats. because we want to equip him as best as possble to fight infections, cancer and other diseases with a variety of fresh food. We also feed him cooked proteins such as eggs, sardines, organ meats, and hamburger, mixed with barley, rice or potatoes.
Philosophy #4: The anti-obesity diet. Kafka is 22.5 inches at the withers, and 58 lbs. He is a big SS who would like you to think he's starving all the time. But with the snacks we give him, it's hard for his weight to exceed the 60 lb mark. We also measure his food with dishes made to hold exactly the amount of food he's supposed to have at each meal. When we want to do something special for him, we don't feed him treats, we take him to the beach.
I would have liked to completely follow one or another, but the tweaks have happened because of my experience with Kafka, and my realization that lots of breeders are actually paid to promote one or another brand. The good news is that he has a great appetite. This is not a breed that refuses anything edible, and that's why it's up to us humans to be careful.
Sunday, April 05, 2009
On The Water
Water-loving standard schnauzers. I took mine to a small beach today. He can't swim yet, but he gets in the water if other dogs are doing the same. One was swimming to retrieve a big stick. Kafka waded in, then waited until the other dog got to shore to snatch away his stick, or at least engage in a tug-of-war of sorts. He wanted to retrieve the stick floating yards away, but he stood chest deep in the murky bay waters, as if thinking, "I wonder how this other dog can get to the stick."
In the meantime, I tossed sticks much closer to shore, which he retrieved. He would not drop them at my feet, content to leave them where I would have to work at retrieval myself. If he intercepted the retrieving dog, he would grab an end of the stick and growl, or chase him along the beach and try to climb on his withers with one paw, growling all the time. This went on for about twenty minutes, then most of the dogs his size left and we went hiking.
He had a red backpack on. People would ask, "Is he a special kind of dog?," and I would say, "Yeah, his job is to carry his own water." In reality, I put on the backpack because its color would help me see him in the deep underbrush growing at the Albany Bulb. It was empty but for the sand it had collected during the retrieving excercise. On the edges of this landfill, cement rubble prevents you from enjoying a flat, safe hike. So I can call, "go back," and he will backtrack out of the smaller paths. If I point and say, "this way" at a fork, he will go in that direction. And If I say "water," and he is thirsty, he will sit and wait for me to take the bottle out of his backpack. We are getting used to each other, even near the water.
In the meantime, I tossed sticks much closer to shore, which he retrieved. He would not drop them at my feet, content to leave them where I would have to work at retrieval myself. If he intercepted the retrieving dog, he would grab an end of the stick and growl, or chase him along the beach and try to climb on his withers with one paw, growling all the time. This went on for about twenty minutes, then most of the dogs his size left and we went hiking.
He had a red backpack on. People would ask, "Is he a special kind of dog?," and I would say, "Yeah, his job is to carry his own water." In reality, I put on the backpack because its color would help me see him in the deep underbrush growing at the Albany Bulb. It was empty but for the sand it had collected during the retrieving excercise. On the edges of this landfill, cement rubble prevents you from enjoying a flat, safe hike. So I can call, "go back," and he will backtrack out of the smaller paths. If I point and say, "this way" at a fork, he will go in that direction. And If I say "water," and he is thirsty, he will sit and wait for me to take the bottle out of his backpack. We are getting used to each other, even near the water.
Thursday, April 02, 2009
Tricksters
The opportunity for doing mischief is found a hundred times a day, and of doing
good once in a year. Voltaire
Kafka wants us to let him out. Because we don't, when he thinks we are not looking, he places his two front paws on the kitchen counter and grabs a kitchen towel. When we take this off his mouth, he pulls the tablecloth and my coffee spills. Minutes later, he pushes the door to a forbidden room and runs off with my mom's knitting.
It's 6 AM. My partner wakes me up with this short sentence: "Kafka took off." I leave the house in my pajamas, screaming OMG to myself. I walk quickly up the street trying to spot him in the dark, but I don't need to look for long. He approaches me, wagging his stub, feeling excited
at this new way of finding fun and lets me leash him after evading my partner for more than 20 minutes.
I'm at an off-leash park with Kafka. He spots a small dog in his line of sight and he crouches. I know what's next: he pounces and growls. The owner screams for me to leash him, but it is impossible, the small dog is running in circles and Kafka is trying to flatten him agains the
ground with his paws.
He meets another dog, a sweet Rhodesian Ridgeback, at the park. They play for a while, and I talk to the other dog's owner. After a while, Kafka plops down on the ground, tired. The other dog stands close to his owner wagging his tail and Kafka decides to get up and move closer. His tail proves too tempting to Kafka, who decides to take a bite off it as he passes. The Ridgeback succesfully avoids a bite by sticking his posterior between his owner's legs.
We get inside my truck for a ride to the park, but then my new ABBA CD, sticking out of the player, catches his eye. In less time than I can say Kafka, he has bitten a quarter-size chunk off it, and before I know it, he's swallowed it, because I can't find it anywhere inside the cabin. I'm reduced to scanning his poop in the hope that he migh expel it in the next few days. We take him to the vet for x-rays and discover he's also swallowed part of a corn cob that he's fished out of the trash.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
The Chew Test
At the local pet food store, I find myself explaining why I won't buy any more plush toys for Kafka. "He destroys them all within minutes. First the squeaker comes out, then the tag, then the stuffing. The toy itself is shredded last." The store owner, a woman in her forties, made a face and spoke up: "If you don't provide him with toys, he will turn YOUR things into toys."
I took a look at their display. Some of the toys they sell have several layers and are sewn quite well. One expensive toy company claims to test their toys with tigers. But in small print, at the bottom of the label, you will find that none guarantees their toy against determined, aggressive chewers. Their toys, as it turns out, are not to be used as chew toys. In other words, if you find your dog chewing on them, you are supposed to remove the toy. These toys are made for dogs that fetch, not schnauzers.
So we've instead invested in rope and rubber toys. He destroys the squeaker inside any rubber toy immediately, but at least the toy will have a few more hours. We found a nylabone that lasts about a week. Synthetic rope works best, as it cannot be shredded into long strings that end up in his intestinal tract. And that is actually why he does not have toys that come apart. Like many schnauzers, ours is a master swallower. If he suspects his toy will be taken away and it fits in his mouth, down the esophagus it goes. Good thing that he has either pooped or thrown up everything he's ingested.
I waited for a minute before responding to the store owner. "Well now that you mention it, he does seem to have a thing for glasses. I'm on my third pair."
Sunday, March 15, 2009
How much do they hunt?
I ran out of breath. It was raining softly. The hill was simply too steep and slippery for me to continue climbing. Below me, deep in the ravine, I could still hear the clink-clink of Kafka's tags as he looked for a way to reach the cat (now perched on a branch) he had pursued a minute ago. I knew that if I called his name, my one-year old would know I was still waiting for him and would take his time coming out of the oak grove. No, my best strategy was to pretend I was walking back to the car.
A couple of minutes later I saw him coming out of the north side, his head scanning the horizon from side to side. He was clearly looking for me. I crouched but it was too late. Having spotted me, Kafka happily trotted back to his magic kingdom, too much fun to be abandoned for a mere primate.
Just what is it that makes Standard Schnauzers stop listening when hunting is involved? Many other dog breeds were developed to be hunting companions. Several breeds were developed to rat, so Standard Schnauzers are not unique. But here lies the detail: Standard Schnauzers were not really bred to aid in the human hunting agenda. They were developed to kill rats and other vermin on their own as farm dogs. Read no soft mouth, no delayed gratification, no holding at bay. Read great focus and determination, and little regard for human needs when something as exciting as a chase is taking place. The folks at Carabella describe this powerful instinct:
A couple of minutes later I saw him coming out of the north side, his head scanning the horizon from side to side. He was clearly looking for me. I crouched but it was too late. Having spotted me, Kafka happily trotted back to his magic kingdom, too much fun to be abandoned for a mere primate.
Just what is it that makes Standard Schnauzers stop listening when hunting is involved? Many other dog breeds were developed to be hunting companions. Several breeds were developed to rat, so Standard Schnauzers are not unique. But here lies the detail: Standard Schnauzers were not really bred to aid in the human hunting agenda. They were developed to kill rats and other vermin on their own as farm dogs. Read no soft mouth, no delayed gratification, no holding at bay. Read great focus and determination, and little regard for human needs when something as exciting as a chase is taking place. The folks at Carabella describe this powerful instinct:
Standard Schnauzers go nuts over squirrels. Just say the word squirrel or bunny
and they start looking. Mine have killed moles, rabbits, rats, other rodents of
which I have no name, and, unfortunately, birds. My foundation bitch, Bella,
brought me one rat. I screamed and hollered, so that was the last rat I saw. She
also used to bring dead birds to me and I would always tell myself that the
"bird had to have been sick". Then I saw her catch a bird -- a cat couldn't have
done better. She especially loved to catch crows. Fortunately, she is the
only dog who has ever brought me a bird but I do find them chewed on in the
yard. The Standard Schnauzers we live with today ignore the parrots but I don't
know what they would do if the parrot was on the floor which sometimes happens.
So why had I not found this when we were doing our research on this breed? Could it be that I had glossed over the subtle warnings found on the breeder websites? We live on the border between a very urban area and a semi-rural city, next to a regional park where cows, coyotes and mountain lions coexist. This means Kafka looks for and chases small animals on every walk he takes. I wondered if he is one of those standards with a very strong prey instinct.
Twenty minutes later, I scanned the edge of the grove, but could not hear anything anymore. I had walked too far. I finally saw him again from the top of the hill. This time, he was digging for gophers and ignoring my calls, something he seldom does. Ok, time for Plan B. I had to scramble all the way down the hill to where he was. I knew that if he found a critter near the surface, this would hold his interest unil I could leash him. But by the time I got there, no gopher had dared to tease him. He was still pacing, still in hunter mode. I pretended to find something interesting on the ground. I took out the real liver I take on off-leash outings. I even announced I was leaving. But the hunter mode in a Standard Schanuzer is very strong. I could not persuade this puppy who had been so good in his obedience classes to get near me.
Cursing my decision to take this path, I waited until he passed me close enough, tackled his 60 pounds and got a hold of his hind legs, then leashed him to my body. We trodded uphill, both of us muddy and wet. Slowly, Kafka morphed back into domestic dog, politely sniffing the ground by my side, never pulling or falling behind. By the time he climbed in the truck next to me, he was exhausted.
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