The Raw Side of Life

Not all of you reading this will be aware that I feed my dogs a raw diet.  For more information about this, you might like to read Hovawarts on a Raw Diet and whilst you are over there, you may well find yourself reading a lot more!  Kenzo has been writing much longer than me and about more stuff than I ever will.  Well worth a visit or two - or three.

Anyway, most of the time raw feeding is pretty simple, especially when you get into a routine of keeping the freezer stocked and remembering to take stuff out in time to defrost.  Feeding raw is very rewarding in that the dogs are full of vitality, have super coats, clean teeth, sweet breath, they don't smell (unless they have rolled in their chosen perfume) and they really, really enjoy their food.

Tussock showing newcomer River how to eat her chicken

Tussock as a puppy herself, in blissful enjoyment of her food

Sometimes, however, things go a little wrong, and before you read any further I have to give you a WARNING – This may make you feel queasy if you have just eaten, or may put you off your food. 

This story begins on a later summer’s afternoon last year.  I was planning a short break to join my brother and his family on the Isle of Eigg in October and needed to take several days’s food for the dogs.  I would not have fridge or freezer space on getting there, and everything I took had to be carried on my person or on my bicycle.  The cottage we were staying in was several miles up the island - I would cycle and the dogs would run.  

I found a chiller rucksack on the internet and thought that would do the job – easy to carry on the bike, and it could live in the cold room at the cottage where we were staying.  It worked just fine - we had a great holiday, and the food stayed cool enough not to go off.

A week or so after coming home I ordered more food via the butcher and as usual had too much to fit into the freezer.  I had a lightbulb moment and thought of the rucksack – if I changed the chiller block every day, it would keep in there for up to a week.  Great idea!

However, a week or few later, I detected an odour in the shed – of the wrinkly nose variety.  I had a quick look around for the cause but found nothing, so assumed I had dropped a bit of chicken carcass behind the freezer.  Me being a lazy sod elected to let the mice eat it as it would make a change to their usual raids on the horse feed bins and bird food.  But it seemed as though it was in a place that even the mice couldn’t get at as the smell wasn’t going away and, in fact, it was causing pre-emptive nose wrinkling before entering the shed.  I kept thinking I should have a clear out, but …………… it never got done, and quite frankly I lived with it in the knowledge it would go away - one day.

At Christmas I visited my family and on returning home I had two turkeys that needed to go in the freezer - I had done the last minute turkey run to Tesco and these enormous birds cost me just £7 each.  I donned my head torch to go out in the dark, and after depositing the birds in the freezer I swung round to exit the shed.  The light of the torch caught on something – ah, my little green chiller sack that I had been looking for to take with me over Christmas.  Silly me leaving it out there.  No wonder I couldn't find it.  I will take it inside and put it away properly.

It was heavy.  Oh shit.  The smell.  Oh god. 

Most folks would have just chucked the sack and its contents in the bin.  But having bought it and only used it once, that seemed such a waste.  And so, with a virtual clothes peg on my nose, I tried to open the zip.  No chance.  Got the pliers – success.  From within the bag, this green brown aroma arose and hit me full force as I tipped the liquefied contents in the bin and covered them with ash from the fire.  Now what?  At arms length I took the sack to one of the water butts and filled it with water to tip down the drain and get rid of the worst of the gunk and slime.  Then I slung it in the washing machine to give it a wash.

When the wash had finished, I opened the door of the machine only to be accosted by this familiar smell once again.  I promptly threw it back in and washed it again.  Then a third wash along with some muddy dog towels.  The washing machine stopped smelling at this point, but the rucksack still was a bit odorous.  I hung it up in the conservatory convinced that time would deal with the smell through the colder months.

I am haunted by this smell.  I know its every contour, every mood, and every colour. 

I had intended going back out to the shed to clean up the area ……………………………. But I forgot.  Until today and that is when I found the maggots.  I made a rapid exit from the shed to regain my composure.  I have always thought I had no phobias, but now I realise that, due to a incident about 30 years ago, maggots en masse are my phobia.

I learnt a lesson from this - and now have a second freezer to take the overflow!

Working Like a Dog

If I were a dog, I would probably think I had the best job in the whole wide world.  I am sure my dogs think I do.

Today, whilst spring cleaning in one of the cottages I look after, I happened to look out of the kitchen window to see River sitting just watching the world go by.  Then suddenly, she jumped up, did a zoomie around the grass and then went and sat back down again. 

I wonder how many of us do an equivalent zoomie when we are just happy and contented.  I sometimes take a cue from my dogs and do one, and then surreptitiously look around to make sure nobody saw me!  We are supposed to be a bit more in control of ourselves.

I see their gleeful and enthusiastic play, and wonder where we left our glee and enthusiasm.  Which job or responsibility or relationship battered it out of us?  Or did we just "grow up" like our parents told us to?  I don't know, but I will try very hard to take a cue from my dogs more often - it's actually good fun!

But I digress.  Why do my dogs think I have the best job in the world?  Well, they come with me and "help".  If I am inside they have the run of the garden outside, although walls and fences mean absolutely nothing to River and she spends much of her time beyond the garden.  The cottage we were at today is right on the sea, so a dream venue for any dog.  In the summer months they can bask in the sunshine, take a dip in the sea, play, or sometimes I take them some tasty bones to enjoy.  The colder weather is a bit more challenging but unless it is pouring with rain, I leave the back of the car open so they can hop in and out as they like.  Sometimes they come and curl up in the entrance porch and just wait for me to finish.

One house has a lovely stream just outside, and River and Talulah love to dip in and out of its pools.  The same house also has a muddy ditch behind - and Talulah the swamp monster is happy to play in there.....

The smallest cottage is up in the trees and the steep banking goes down to the river - they tire themselves out running down for a swim and then running back up again to play on the lawn.

But I will talk about the other houses another time.  Craiguillean, where we were today, is their favourite.  I always seem to end up cleaning the kitchen as nobody else wants to, but in some ways I like that because I can watch the dogs out of the window. 

I have watched them playing like kids walking on the top of the wall - just for the sake of it.  Almost as if they are having a competition to see who can stay on longest.  I haven't seen anyone fall off yet, but there have been a few close calls.

And then the day I looked out on the water to see an otter swimming.  Oh wow, I thought, and got the binoculars.  It wasn't an otter, it was Talulah - about 20 metres out just pottering about in the water enjoying herself.  She swam up and down for about 20 minutes before coming out and drying in the sun.  I do wonder if she did it to get away from River.

Another day they might just run up and down the shore, in and out of the water, chasing each other round - sometimes a stick is the prize, sometimes it is a ball, sometimes there is no prize.

Sometimes, like today, Talulah might find a mouse, and she will carry it around like a trophy tormenting the girls I work with when they go outside for a cigarette.  All I could hear were squeals and "Talulah - no!"

And if I am on a gardening session - they try to help by pushing balls and sticks at me, or running off with my pile of weeds or prunings.  Or curling up to sleep in the shrubbery.

Whoever coined the phrase "working like a dog" didn't have on of my dogs!

Shocking Behaviour

I didn't start, or re-start this blog to make a statement in any way - there are others doing that.  However, something came to mind the other day after a conversation with someone I vaguely know.

I had been telling her about the issues of River charging at Talulah and my efforts to stop this activity, or at least reduce it.  Her suggestion astounded me - why didn't I use an electric shock collar?

I will tell you why.

When Tussock was about two years old, perhaps a bit younger, she got a shock from an electric fence.  A friend here on the island very kindly allows me to store hay in her barn.  We buy a lorry load together and her barn is more or less big enough to take the lot.  I go down and pick up a few bales at a time.  When their place was first built, the paddocks had electric fences round them prior to the post and rail fencing going up.

Most of the lower part of this fence was high enough that the dogs could get underneath without contact, but Tussock managed to find the bit that wasn't.  I was half way up the wall of hay when I heard her scream, and the next thing I knew was she came flying into the barn and climbed up the hay to get to me, shaking and whimpering.  It took some time to calm her down and persuade her to come out of the barn.  All she wanted to do was go in the car, and I allowed her to do so.

For about a year, she wouldn't even get out of the car when we went down there.  I would leave the door open for her, but she wouldn't move from her seat.  Eventually the memory faded and she is quite happy now to get out and play and mooch.  The electric fence has long since gone.

So why would I use a shock collar when the shock and pain creates a fear like this?

Hovawarts and Housework.......

.............. are like oil and water - they don't mix.  I often chastise myself for not doing more housework and my usual excuse is that I do a lot of cleaning work in my job, and whilst I have great intentions of cleaning my own house on getting home, somehow the enthusiasm fades on the short journey back - there is always something more interesting or enjoyable to do.

But the reality is that I constantly ask the question "why bother?"  As fast as I clean up, the dogs come in and make a mess again.  By the time I have done the length of the sitting room with the Dyson, I turn around to find that River has chewed another log from the basket leaving bits of wood on the fireside rug.  Or Talulah waltzes in with dirty feet leaving muddy paw prints on the carpet, or Tussock has just shaken herself leaving a fine layer of hair to replace the one I have just cleaned up.


Thank you Talulah!

On more than one occasion I have wondered what might happen if I never vacuumed up the dog hair - will it form a thick layer and felt itself together making a new carpet to which fibres are constantly added.  I haven't been brave enough to try it yet!

Tussock does help in her own way, by standing patiently until remember to use the nozzle on her - I didn't teach her that; she learnt from old Sisko!



Direct Route from Dog to Dyson

Talulah has only recently discovered that it is rather nice to have that done.  River, on the other hand, still believes that this nozzle is out to kill her, but being the brave girl that she is, comes in pouncing, and snarling, determined to grab it and shake it to death rather like a she-wolf going for a snake that is endangering her pups.



Sizing it up......



and going for the kill.

I do get a bit fed up when it gets too messy, and I am a little embarrassed if someone comes to visit and I haven't vacuumed for a day or three.  But I do question why I should feel like that.  After all, people with children have sticky fingerprints all over the house, people who smoke have houses that stink of stale cigarette smoke,   My weakness is my dogs so why worry about a bit of dog hair?

We'll talk about the mud another day.........

Actions and Reactions

All dogs, not just hovawarts, recognise certain movements or routines made by their humans that give them a clue as to what is happening next especially when it involves something they enjoy.  My girls are no exception - but with three dogs, the "volume" of their expectations is turned up.  We can try to hide what our intentions are, but there is no fooling them.

Getting up in the morning is the first thing - as I emerge from sleep, I obviously change my breathing pattern and start to move more - they pick up on these changes, and then I become aware of their eyes boring holes into me, River's recharged and pent up energy, and Talulah's insistent whistly whine.  If I am not quite ready to get up I will growl at them to settle back down, and I have to lay very still and make believe I am still asleep.

Once I make eye contact with them, it is all systems go - by the time I reach my clothes, River has run up and down the stairs a couple of times, and then stands on the landing shouting at me.  Talulah does her best to steal whatever clothes I am trying to put on, and Tussock is trying lick my face and have her backside scratched at the same time.  On the way down stairs and through the sitting room, River moves as though she is on springs jumping from chair to chair.



Hurry up Mum!

Now I confess - I don't hold with the attitude that you must always eat first before you feed your dogs or they will think they rule the house.  I feed my dogs before anything else happens, partly because it gets them out of the way.  I only have a small house, and moving round my kitchen with all the dogs in there is like moving through treacle.

Trying to get ready to go out is an adventure in its own right.  I haven't timed the exercise, but I have to start thinking about it about half an hour before leaving.  The girls pick up on the tiniest movement.  Every time I go to the loo is a celebration as it just might mean we are going somewhere as I always go before leaving home.  All three pile in the small room with me in excited expectation.  The one major cue, however, is my shutting the laptop.  They burst into action, beside themselves with glee at whatever is going to be happening. 

Going upstairs to get extra socks to wear with my wellies, River bounds up the staircase in about three strides, then stands at the top wagging her tail and laughing at me.  Sometimes I play a game and go into creeping mode - at this she bounces into the bedroom, barking, and doing somersaults on the bed and then back to the landing to bark at me.  By this time Talulah and Tussock have come upstairs too, and then I cannot go back down as they all decided to play-fight on the stairs. 



Dog jam on the stairs

Whilst I put the extra socks on, I have to hang on to my slippers or they will be claimed by Talulah and be deposited somewhere - often outside in the garden.  Jacket, hat, wellies, camera and car keys are gathered up and we make it outside.  Ooops, Talulah managed to get my slippers, plus three toys in her mouth - so I must take them back inside. 

I need to make up bucket feeds for the horses, trying to keep out the greedy dogs whilst I do so, and also stop them trying to get at tomorrow's food which is defrosting on top of the freezer. 

Right, ready to go - dogs in the back of the car - and I have to go back in the house to get towels - we ALWAYS need them!  Or I might forget something else - some days I have to make as many as three trips back into the house.

The dogs are always excited about going somewhere in the car as it nearly always means a walk - this excitement is there whichever direction I go in.  Tussock is calm, but River is almost beside herself with excitement.  And Talulah copies her.  Going to work, this excitement reaches fever pitch if we are going to the cottage at Craiguillean - we go over the cattle grid and turn sharp right and it is like being in the midst of a thousand screaming girls at a Beatles concert.



The road to Craiguillean - who can blame them for being excited!

The computer cue comes into its own again at bedtime.  When I turn off the laptop, and it goes "ping", three dogs leap into the air as if simultaneously given an electric shock.  They dash into the kitchen and wait expectantly for supper.

And finally it is bed time - River is first up the stairs and claims her spot on the bed, followed by Tussock.  Talulah breathes a sigh of relief and settles down to some peace and quiet.  Another day draws to a close.


No room for me.

 

Peace at last!

 

Talulah's Torment

Parents invest a huge amount of love, patience, time and energy into their children, nurturing them through their infancy, toddler and pre-teen years, only to be rewarded with the brattish and obnoxious behaviour that all too frequently comes with adolescence.  Poor Talulah was so patient with River when she was a puppy - taking on the role of foster mum, sharing her toys, allowing her to pull her about and stand on her, protecting her from real and imagined dangers - and now all that love and care is being rewarded with incessant torment.

My sweet little puppy has become a bully.  And I take responsibility for some of this as I should have stepped in a lot earlier.  I kept thinking that the puppy licence would run out and Talulah would finally snap and tell her off.  I waited, and waited.....and waited.  But I underestimated the level of patience that Talulah has and just how sweet and gentle her nature is - I also underestimated the force of River's personality!

From gentle tug play, teeth jousting and rolling around I now hear Talulah whimper and squeal when River makes contact and isn't careful how much of her weight she throws around.  In true bully style River picks on someone smaller, and someone who won't stand up to her.  I have been willing Talulah to fight back, but I know now that she won't do it and I feel very guilty for not acting sooner.

Talulah just rolls over and allows River to abuse her!

And when River needs a rest, she just sits on her victim

Despite the torment she suffers, when Tussock deals out some of the same treatment, Talulah is always there to make sure her "baby" doesn't get hurt.

Interestingly though, when it comes to food, Talulah holds her own.  I have seen River dash in and steal something from under Tussock's nose - and get away with it!  But she won't go near Talulah.  When it comes to her food, Talulah can turn into a snarling demon looking twice her size with all hackles up.

Now that I have stepped in to temper some of this thuggish behaviour, I am seeing other facets to River's personality - and she is far more complex than first meets the eye.  She comes across as a Devil May Care But I Don't kind of personality, but she actually is very keen to please and loves to get things right.

When we go through a gate, Talulah is very reluctant to go through as that is when River runs at her and rags her neck or legs.  I put River on a lead at this stage and walk a distance with her whilst she calms down - by this time Tussock is raring to go which takes a lot of pressure off Talulah.  However, further into the walk, the delinquent behaviour builds up, so she goes on the lead again and we do a short training session of heelwork, sitting, down, giving paws - with lots of treats for good behaviour.  It seems that she now seems to recognise there is more reward for coming to me than in beating up Talulah.  We haven't stopped it yet, but we are making progress.  She even seems to recognise when she is getting out of control.  Well, I like to think that, but it is probably my lifted finger and narrowed eyes that is the cue!  Whatever it is, River's brains are starting to match up to the brawn - she is thinking.  So I had better start thinking twice as quickly!

But they are also drinking and dunking buddies.

A couple of people commented on how dogs do feel and show grief, and when we lost Sisko, it was actually Talulah that demonstrated it the most.  This surprised me as she was the one who would curl her lip up at Sisko if he got in her space, and didn't really have that much to do with him.  But after his death, she showed some marked changes of behaviour for a period of time.  The most noticeable was a bed time.  For long enough, her routine at night, when the rest of us go upstairs, is to stay downstairs and have a couple of hours of solitude in the sitting room - I often use this time to go back down and give her a special cuddle.  But when Sisko died - she came up with the rest of us, and even elected to sleep on Sisko's bed a few times, something she had never done before.  She has always slept on my bed from being eight weeks old.  This new routine lasted about two weeks - and then back to normal.  They know, and they feel.



Sometimes River is a bit more loving.....
 

And just for fun......

Hunting for Mice

 

Caught One!

 

River of Enthusiasm

Right!  Time to get this blog motoring again.  After a bit of encouragement and nagging from various quarters I decided a year was a long enough gap.  Where did 2012 go?  Whoops!   But never mind.  So, where were we?  Ah, yes, a growing puppy – who is now eighteen months old, still very puppy-like in many ways but starting to show much more adult behaviour.  I won’t try to fill in the last year as that would be difficult to do, but I am sure a few stories might just creep in.

I had been wondering what I was writing this blog for – I read a small handful of blogs regularly and they always have so much to say that is worth listening to – things that make you think – or laugh – or cry - the best ones do all three.  Should I try do something similar?  Can I match them?  The reality is that I don’t think I can – because that would be imitating and that wouldn’t be true to what goes on in this particular household in a quiet corner of Scotland’s west coast.  So I will continue to write it for the same reasons as I started – for River’s breeder, and various far flung friends and family who were not able to see her in the flesh.  To them, I apologise for the long gap, and hope you will pick up the thread where I lost it.  Mostly though, I will just write it for the fun of it – if I pick up a few readers, wonderful, glad to have you aboard, but I just feel like writing again.

Riversong at Eighteen Months

 “Little” Riversong is now the biggest of my three dogs.  Three dogs?  Afraid so – I lost old Sisko back in June last year.  He did okay at 14, but he had been slowing down, losing weight and getting a bit grumpy.  His time caught up with him and we said goodbye to him before he suffered too much of the pain and indignity of old age.  Things came to a head when he started taking multiple seizures – it wasn’t fair on him or on the others, to keep him going for the sake of it. 

Oddly enough, the rest of the pack were quite subdued for a few days – whether they felt his passing or perhaps they took their cue from me, I’m not sure, but it wasn’t too long before the play started again.  River has a vast reservoir of energy and attitude and it can only be contained for a little while before the dam bursts and all hell lets loose.

It is interesting how the relationships between the dogs has changed over the last year.  For a long time Tussock had very little interest in the young pretender – yes, she would sniff her, play a little, and certainly protect her, but it was with the air of a great aunt who really can’t be doing with these noisy children charging about and disturbing the peace.  How things have changed!  I have never seen Tussock play so much as she has done this last couple of months.  It’s like she suddenly deems River a worthy playmate – someone her own size and build – but most important of all – of the same attitude.

Hovawart play is rough, violent, no holds barred and awesome to watch.  There are shoulder charges, kangaroo jumps, bowl overs, boxing and steamrollering with lots of gnashing teeth, whites of eyes, and vocalisations.  I do see and hear a little bit of a challenge from River and discipline from Tussock - now and again the tone changes and the game will be brought to a halt with disciplinary action from the Boss.  River is still very respectful of Tussock, but she tests her continually the same way as children test their parents.

 

  



 River’s relationship with Talulah is entirely different – she bullies her, bites her, shouts at her and yet Talulah still tries to defend her when the two hovies are playing.  So much so that I have to hold her back to prevent her from getting hurt.  Inside, the two of them are good buddies – sharing a toy, or a bit of firewood, and playing gently – but out on a walk River shrugs off her chummy coat and turns in to Superthug.   That’s a tale for another day.