On the Other Paw

This is the sixth in a series of posts on our little rescue dog, Ellie Mae. 

Ellie Mae still flinches if I bring a hand too quickly in the vicinity of her face to pet her, an indication that she has had reason in the past to fear being struck. The ironic thing about disciplining a dog, is that you get far more mileage out of a disapproving tone of voice, than you ever would out of a cuff to the side of the head.

There is a formula for success in bonding with a dog, that is foolproof: Time + attention + love = a dog who is loyal, appreciative and unconditionally accepting of you. Time need not mean actively engaging with your dog, so much as being able to share a space without issue.

If I am word-processing, Ellie Mae is curled up on a bed beside me. If I am moving twenty wheelbarrows of topsoil, to cover my mammoth compost pile one final time, before soaking it down and putting it to bed for the winter, then Ellie is in the immediate vicinity.

Though Ellie Mae continues to exhibit an inordinate interest in the fifteen chickens we keep, I have decided that to only tend them when Ellie is in the house, is counter to the farm philosophy that mandates that everyone get along. Ellie Mae may not like the three cats, and she may like the chickens far too much for my level of comfort, but she is going to have to adapt.

Halfway there...

With that thought in mind, I set out to do a quick cleanup of the girls’ quarters, something I endeavor to do every ten days or so. The wheelbarrow of straw, manure and dirt goes onto the aforementioned humus pile, atop the recently deposited 200-plus dead tomato plants, to help form next spring’s compost.

Ellie Mae displays her herding origins by wanting to roll in the manure. Rather than get annoyed with her for doing what comes instinctively, I revel in the fact that this is a genuine farm dog, a work dog, a four-legged colleague who is willing to do anything that needs being done.

Therefore, I cover the load from the chicken yard with a layer of topsoil, before tarping it, and Ellie Mae is none the wiser. It is up to me to remove the problem, rather than expecting Ellie Mae to ignore what comes naturally. Besides, if we’re going to quibble here, I will gently point out that Dozer’s way of handling the presence of the chicken delicacies, was to eat them, if I was not quick to cover them up.

Dogs. They can be so uncivilized.

On the other paw, dogs can be taught manners. Before I entered the chickens' outside yard, I checked to make sure our little hound was nowhere in the vicinity. Securing the door from the inside, I went to work. Within a minute, Ellie Mae was at the door to the enclosure; I knew this because the chickens were streaming past me to the inner sanctum of their luxury suite.

“Back,” I instructed Ellie Mae, knowing that the command “back” is not on the list of basic commands, forwarded to me by Nancy at Well-mannered Mutts, an outfit that helps the participating dog owner, instill a modicum of civility into his dog.

Whereas those eyes melt my heart,
those scars make me wonder. Sharp fence wire?

Ellie cocked her head to one side, opened and shut her jaws as though yawning, extended a paw for a handshake, though I was still inside the enclosure and then turned around and retreated twenty feet to the driveway.

The first time we ever had Ellie Mae “load up” into the back seat of the little Subaru we drive, when we obtained her from the Humane Society, she was so amped that she kept trying to join us in the front seat. Out of necessity, Gluten-Free Mama used the single word "Back!" and what strength she could spare, to restrain Ellie from showing how happy she was to see us.

Being the quick study that she is, by the third time we had her load up, we only had to instruct her “back” twice, on the roundtrip to Ukiah. When I was decorating the living room with fir, I had it strewn all over the floor. A single “back” had Ellie Mae out of the arena. I was dazzled.

The unseasonal heat has Ellie Mae lounging on the
front deck, as is only fitting and proper.

She “sits” on command, “comes” on command and is getting better at the others on the list. Ellie Mae is so appreciative, her gratitude flows freely from her eyes, which express her new lease on life with 20/20 vision. Her early tendency to want to be on the prowl, continuously poking her nose into every nook and cranny, has ceased.

Some of it was due to her new surroundings, but part of it was due to habit. A dog which finds a variety of ways to get into trouble, has too much unattended time on her paws. A dog who spends most of her time in the company of her human, has no reason to prowl. She is happy, fulfilled, and ready to get up and do it again the next day.

Especially if there is something to roll in on the humus pile.

I swear. It was only once. I thought they were, well, never mind.