T-minus 5...

Just chewing on an old trumpet vine pod

Contented dog days of autumn

How can you help not wonder what is going on behind that stare?

Tuesday afternoon and the south wind has a bit of a breath on it. Patchy clouds allow enough warming rays through to make puttering around the yard comfortable with a long-sleeved flannel shirt.

Opal Hound bounds through clumps of leaves collected by the wind, searching for a communal, ratty old tennis ball. She brings it to me, hesitates only slightly before releasing the ball when told to "let go", then leaps expectantly for me to toss it across the yard. Once launched, she is off like a shot to beat Beano to it!

A couple or three rounds of the ball usually is enough for her. She takes it to a spot on the grass and begins gnawing on it, holding the ball between her over-sized front paws.

Two and a half weeks isn't much time to teach a rambunctious pup, even if you know what your doing and have all day,every day to work on it. We are not professional trainers. Our goals--make that GOAL--were simple; get Opal comfortable enough being in a crate for a 5-days road trip.

I think we're there. Just now, as I type, Opal silently slipped onto Beano's crate beside our computer station. She's now snoring softly. Nor is this new behavior. Still somewhat reluctant to enter her borrowed transport crate at bedtime, she will take short naps in Beano's two or three times in a day.

Sometimes you just feel compelled to gnaw on a stick.

We have played some with the leash. Opal is less than enthusiastic about being collared and tends to roll onto her back, refusing to cooperate. Once collared and out the door, however, she is eager to explore.

Opal is curious about other dogs and people encountered along the way, but we keep her a cautious distance from strangers, canine and otherwise.

We also have worked with two simple commands, "sit" and "let go." Appropriate responses to either is spotty, at best.

Again, I'm aware the fault lies with the trainer, not the trainee!

In From the Cold

Shoe??? What shoe???

Beginning Week 2

Someone left the north gate open last night, and an arctic air mass came roaring in on 30 mph winds. That's what's known as a blue norther in these parts, but seeing as how it blew in after dark, there's just no telling what color it was.

Opal Hound and her little buddy Beano have been confined indoors more than any of us really like. The dogs enjoy their romps in the back yard, exchanging rumors on the Bow-Wow grapevine with other hounds of the hood. Nor do we two-leggeds have to spend quite so much time "domesticating" a 50-pound puppy with a penchant for chewing when we can declare "exercise time" in the yard.

This chewing thing, common among puppies, did not manifest itself until the past couple of days, right at one week since she checked in to this fostering canine bed & breakfast. Along with the chewing--first on Annie's slippers--came exploring under our bed and snooping into nooks and crannies in the back catch-all room and closets. We're pretty sure she bribes the cats to open the doors for her!

Opal, I'm told, also whines briefly at the front door any time I leave and do not take her, and she usually come bounding across the hardwood to greet me when I return. I'm certainly no dog expert, but to me these recent behaviors indicate Opal Hound is feeling "at home".

Damn dog!

On the one hand, I'm thrilled she is settling in and feeling comfortable. She is a great dog, deserving of a great home. What she doesn't know, however, is that she is not there yet. This place to which she is growing more and more accustomed is a way station at best.

So begin the separation pangs.

She had a home once upon a time. Then for reasons we will never know, she lost that home, ending up in a shelter, anxious and frightened.

Now we have returned her to a happier place. She's playful, often more playful than Beano cares for. Her appetite is healthy, even if we can't turn our backs on the kitchen counters when preparing meals. And she's feeling safe and secure enough to be the puppy she still is. Never mind she's bigger than most Shetland ponies!

Tearing it up out back in warmer fall days...like yesterday!

That all changes in under two weeks when she will leave this place she has come to know as home. We can only hope "our" Opal Girl--who's real name is secretly Olive--finds a final, forever happy place after her long trek to New York.

I don't know how long dogs remember. I do know, though, that when she boards that transport one slobber soaked, eagerly chewed gray leather slipper will go with her. I can only hope it helps.