Mark's Work: "Blah, Blah; Woof, Woof..."

This is the fourth in a series about Ellie Mae, a sweet, affectionate Black Mouth Cur, who has adopted us as her new family, from her luxury suite at the Humane Society for Inland Mendocino County.

Are we getting along yet?

Living on a farm as we do, there is a multitude of critters with which Ellie Mae, the dog, must learn to get along. Ellie Mae joined Gluten-Free Mama and me twelve days ago, from the Humane Society of Inland Mendocino County, and has been adapting nicely.

The evidence: Those aren't Dozer the bulldog's
scratches.

We do, however, have our first consultation with skellydogs.com and the force behind it, Nancy, this coming Sunday morning, purely coincidentally, I might add.

Ahem.

What I asked of that nice Nancy was a private consultation, because, well, we could not afford to wait until group classes were available, in January. More specifically, Ellie Mae could not afford to wait.

She is what might be described as impetuous, bless her Houdini-like skills, and we need to instill a basic command set. As much as Ellie Mae, I needed to participate in the process, simply because I never have. I have raised many pups, but have never gained possession of a three-year-old.

Even Dozer, the recently departed English Bulldog, came permanently into our hearts and home from SmallBoy, after already spending a fair amount of time with us as a pup. This included his first month in June of ’08, when the Mendocino Lightning Complex struck, and CalFire had SmallBoy in its iron grip.

This coming Sunday is the first day we could schedule something, following the two-week quarantine that Ellie Mae had to undergo, to ensure that she did not bring any diseases with her from the shelter that could infect other dogs. Of course, this did not apply to Emma or Margie, dogs who already live on-farm.

As I explained to them, “Whatcha gonna do? She’s family, now.”

Nancy immediately sent us a copy of the basic commands she would like Ellie Mae to become familiar with, and GF Mama and I went right to work. Necessity is the mother of invention, and we need Ellie Mae to fit in because she is not the only quadruped on the premises.

After I clarified for her what a quadruped was, Ellie Mae was good to go.

Our philosophy is that there is plenty of room for everyone, and if you can’t get along, then you are the odd dog out. Besides farm dogs Emma and Margie, our menagerie includes the three cats that live with GF Mama and me, and the five farm cats that live a football field’s length up the driveway from us.

I'm sure detention will work; after all,
it always did with middle schoolers.
Cough.

There are rabbits up at HeadSodBuster and BossLady’s spot, as well as a fenced-in chicken complex, but the only time Ellie Mae encounters this venue, she is on the end of my leash. Having just relocated our two pigs from their quarters, to a couple of chest freezers here on-farm, our critter force is slightly reduced.

There are fifteen chickens, whose dwelling and exercise complex are within the two-acre fenced-in yard that Ellie Mae calls hers. Though Ellie is apt to swing past their abode each chance she gets, once again, the key to success is to build an enclosure that is impenetrable by any four-legged or winged critters.

So far we have seen bobcats, foxes, skunks and ravens doing their best to gain entrance to said menu, and they have been rebuffed. The bear, on the other hand, simply went right through the fence and into the complex, ripped the little door off its hinges, reached in…and got nothing because his arm is only so long.

My guess is that if the bear had wanted to get into the ten-by-ten wooden structure badly enough, he would simply have ripped it apart, but he must have been on a mission that did not include our chickens. Ellie Mae was more successful; she at least got a mouthful of feathers.

Stupid me.

Even writing this makes me cringe, but it just goes to show that whereas Ellie Mae likes to try everything once, kind of like being down at Disneyland, I have to wait to see what she does next, in order to adjust.

Ellie Mae tests, I adjust, she adapts and eventually the two of us merge into one lane.

Sad looks will get you nowhere...

What I have going for me is Dog Psychology 101, in which Gluten-Free Mama has a PHD; you may call me Grasshopper. I know that the one thing that will win out over all, is that bond between Every-Dog and her trainer, because when firmly in place, the dog will do anything to please.

When the bond is firmly in place, the sound of the trainer’s voice praising her, becomes more desirable even than a dog treat. Considering Ellie Mae came to us weight-challenged, her ribs clearly outlined against her tawny fur, this is saying a great deal.

I will cop to talking to Ellie Mae, incessantly. I explain why chasing the chickens, scaring the bejabbers out of them, and attempting to have an early dinner, is decidedly unacceptable behavior. The other thing I do is get out The List and mentally jot down, # 17: "Do not tend the chickens unless Ellie Mae is in the house.”

Then I remember what happened yesterday, while I was out cleaning the mammoth chest refrigerator, and left Ellie Mae in the house-by herself. I was discarding that which had been left behind by the departed farm crew, and scrubbing the fridge out, including adding a liberal dose of baking soda to freshen matters up a bit.

Since I was not inside the house, I do not know in what order things progressed, but when I returned after ten minutes, I found that the paper towel dispenser had indeed dispensed: about fifteen feet of almost-new towels strewn out across the kitchen floor. I ventured carefully into the the dining room.

Fine. Whatever. Sigh....

I found that the curtain hanging on the back door had been yanked down, and that the framed photo of the kids up on Blue Rock was knocked off the window sill and onto the floor, as well as the framed photo of the red-tail. Additionally, a stack of photographs was spilled onto the floor, and there were SCRATCHES on the wall. I guarantee you that Dozer the Bulldog could not jump that high.

Finally, in the laundry room, well, never mind.

You get the idea. I like to think of it as Ellie Mae being impetuous, but it led to an awesome teaching moment.

I really was kind of stunned, not having seen this side of Ellie as of yet. I walked slowly around assessing all of the “damage” without comment. Ellie accompanied me. When we returned to the paper towels, I sighed deeply and began to roll them back up.

I will confess to softly emitting a howl, like that you always hear in movies, long and haunting, and oh, so sad.

After I did so, I patiently explained what it was I had been doing outside, and why it was not OK for her to go around blah, blah, woof, woof, and we got it all straightened out. What I did not do to Ellie Mae is yell at her. I did not even raise my voice. I spoke slowly and firmly, in a low gravelly voice, and one which drips acid so heavily, Ellie recognizes that she had better stay out of its way.

I would never-could never-strike my dog. Heck, Gluten-Free Mama and I raised three sons, born within a 38-month period, without spanking, so this is a cake-walk in comparison.

Ellie Mae and Emma

Ellie followed me around until everything was returned to normal, about three minutes’ time, and then I went and removed the big dog-bed that Emma the Great Dane uses when visiting, and tucked it behind the couch.

I took Ellie’s own little bed and put it up high, and then grabbed a dog-bed not being used by any dog, and placed it in a lonely corner of the dining room. I added a not-her-dish of cold water, and made Ellie take a time-out. I had to patiently ask her to take her spot more times than I might have thought, but once settled, after three false bolts-for-freedom, she remained for the prescribed fifteen minutes.

Meanwhile, I sat in my spot in the other room within eyesight, and monitored her detention, er, time-out. Sorry about that. Old habits die hard, you know.

Besides, I didn’t ask her to work on her homework, or even read something, so it IS different.

Next: Margie and Ellie Mae