by Josh Dean | on January 13th, 2012 | in Features
Anyone who reads Outside knows that one of the best backcountry tools a man can have is his dog. Our own K9 editor, Grayson Schaffer, has exhibited the varied merits of canine utility on many occasions. But the unbelievable news last week that a dog named Oly not only survived an avalanche that killed his owner in the Montana backcountry, but did so for
several days while buried under several feet of snow, before ultimately digging himself out and plodding along to safety, only serves to reinforce just how resilient man’s best friend can be. That this dog in question was a Welsh corgi, a stubby legged herding dog from the British Isles, is all the more unbelievable. This is not a breed known for prowess in snow, or for being a ski companion, but being a herding dog, a Corgi does have tenacity and endurance, two skills that would be critical to surviving four days under thousands of pounds of snow, not to mention digging out of it and walking to safety.
I bring this up today because a blog entry I read this morning pointed out one thing that might have helped Oly in his ordeal. Scientists at Yamazaki Gakuen University in Japan were seeking to understand why it is that dogs are able to walk on snow and ice without discomfort despite their paws being naked of fur and having a high surface-to-volume ratio, which allows for more rapid heat loss. Using electron microscopy, the scientists found
that dogs have a network of tiny veins (known as venules) connected to the arteries in their lower extremities that serve as a “counter-current” heat exchange system; basically, blood is diverted into these venules and warmed before recirculating back into the body, preventing hypothermia and keeping the paws themselves from freezing. This is the same system utilized by Antarctic penguins and dolphins, as well as Arctic foxes and, as the blog’s author wisely observes, is probably an indicator that the evolution of wolf-to-dog happened, at least in part, in a place where such a trait would have been critical.
by Marin Sardy | on January 4th, 2012 | in Features, Swag the Dog, Things Dogs Wear
Working hypothesis: All pets are superheroes in disguise. Evidence I’ve gathered includes watching a friend’s cat successfully run sideways up a cement wall (like Spidey) and discovering a black dog’s technique of disappearing into the shadows to eat another dog’s food (invisibility!). The primary power of my dog, Biscuit—a mix of indeterminate origin, perhaps Chihuahua/rat terrier—is a preternatural cuteness that saps her enemies of all strength. Grown men wither before her, reduced to babbling about doggy kisses in a singsong voice as she gets spit all over them. It’s heartbreaking to witness.
I’m more inspired by her other superpower: She weighs just under ten pounds but can sprint like a greyhound and jump four feet high from a dead standstill—and she thrives on five-mile runs. Alas, she’s not invincible. Her kryptonite? Winter.
Don’t get me wrong. B loves snow. She’ll go bounding through massive dumps (of up to four inches) until she’s nearly catatonic from cold, and it’s entirely up to me to rescue her before she’s on the brink of death. But I couldn’t bear to deny her the pleasure, especially since winter heavily overlaps with what we call squirrel season—when the squirrels spend a lot of time on the ground, gathering nuts. B’s main mission in life is to seek and destroy rodents. (No success yet, but not for lack of obsessive-compulsive effort.) Given the extended time this requires outside even in icy wind and weather, it was incumbent on me to find some winter gear that’s sturdy, warm, and flexible enough to see her through her dangerous addiction. Here are some of the best options out there.
For Snow Days
Land’s End Quilted Dog Coat
B’s first coat ever was a Land’s End model—the Pet Squall Jacket—and after five years it’s not even close to collapse. It’s water-resistant and fleece-lined but suffers from the major design flaw of having a Velcro collar closure that doesn’t hold up to constant use. I loved everything else about the jacket so much that I actually hand-stitched extra-large snaps to the collar to keep it closed. But even better, the company’s newer model, the Quilted Pet Coat, is an entirely different and equally warm design that not only solves the collar problem but also provides better under-body protection from the elements—especially in the vulnerable rib-cage area. And at $29.50, it’s the only quality dog coat I’ve found that fits a tight budget too. landsend.com
All-Natural Base Layer
D-Fa Ice Barker
Made from soft merino wool, D-Fa’s light jacket stays warm when wet and dries quickly using your dog’s body heat. While it might be a bit much for cold-weather dogs like labs and huskies, pointers and other short-hair breeds will love the added comfort—especially on days when you’re far from the living room hearth. One thing to note is that because dog’s don’t sweat, breathability isn’t so much an issue of transporting perspiration as its drying when it gets wet. $119, d-fa.com
When Speed Counts
Ruffwear Cloud Chaser
Besides making you feel like your dog is a protagonist in an eighties movie that involves a lot of aerobics (see: Jamie Lee Curtis, Olivia Newton-John), this flexible soft-shell jacket (see: spandex) envelops a pooch’s core in microfiber fleece and moves with her. This is canine activewear at its best—lightweight, breathable. Replete with racing-stripe-like reflective strips and a full side zipper, the Cloud Chaser may as well be called the Squirrel Chaser. $74.95, ruffwear.com
Crazy Cozy
Foggy Mountain Snuggler
Besides fighting those evil-natured rodents, B’s other primary aim in life is to cuddle. Foggy Mountain makes that possible even when she’s out and about. The Snuggler is not unlike the beloved Snuggie: It’s sort of a blanket that’s been cinched and folded in just the right places, providing a self-cuddling environment, so Biscuit can feel swaddled in love even when she’s lunging at pant legs out on the sidewalk. This coat is seriously warm, and on those supercold days when it takes B approximately 1.2 minutes to decide that for the sake of her extremities she’d better go back inside, this is the one I’m reaching for. $38.95, truefitdogcoats.com
For Après Chase
West Paw Design Reknitz Sweater
I just realized that for weeks I’ve been pronouncing this REK-nitz, when all along it was REE-nitz. As in reduce, reuse, recycle, re-knit. Made from reclaimed cotton—which is greenspeak for scraps salvaged from the cutting table—the Reknitz is B’s go-to in the great indoors. It comes with a pre-cut hole through which a leash can be attached to a harness for walking, but we prefer to rely on it to guard against drafts, since I’m not always around to lift the blanket draped over the couch so she can climb under. $34, westpawdesign.com
Best All-Around
Ruffwear K-9 Overcoat
When it comes down to it, the jacket I reach for most often isn’t one that serves any highly specialized purpose. Because when it comes down to it, my dog isn’t Lara Croft. For the most part she just goes on walks, every day, no matter what. And for that ongoing, essential activity, the K-9 Overcoat is, well, just right. Sturdy and warm, it offers good coverage but doesn’t smother her either, and it’s built to last. Plus, the expandable waist strap and thick plastic buckles that click into place make it the easiest one to pull on and off. Plus, it looks like a cape. $64.95, ruffwear.com
by Ryan Krogh | on December 20th, 2011 | in Features, Pampering, Swag the Dog
Magnolia on her bed
The problem with most dog beds is that they look like, well, dog beds. They’re basically round (or square) pillows that squash down into wafers after a few month’s use—or, worse, get chewed to pieces in the course of a few days. And their style choices: if you’re not a fan herringbone, tweed, or tartan, you’re out of luck. Enter San Francisco pet company P.L.A.Y (Pet Lifestyle And You). Started in 2010, their beds are functional, durable, and, dare we say it, stylish—more than two-dozen beds come in a plethora of colors and patterns, including denim, bamboo, and the company’s artists collection. They’re also eco-friendly, because the filling is constructed from a high-loft (and soft) polyfiber that is made from recycled plastic water bottles.
And dogs love them, if my one-year-old yellow lab is any indication. Before getting P.L.A.Y’s bed, she’d been subverting me at night by crawling into bed after I’d fallen asleep. She was sneaky about it, too, quickly retreating to the floor when I woke up in the morning. Not exactly the Wildrose way. Now, after getting the bed (and a little extra cajoling from me) she sleeps the entire night on her new bed. (From $95, petplay.com)
P.L.A.Y.'s denim lounge bed
by Allison Otto | on December 12th, 2011 | in Features
Let me start by saying that there’s no such thing as the “ultimate adventure dog.” In fact, I believe that all dog breeds are worthy of the “adventure dog” moniker.
Even—dare I say it—Chihuahuas. Yes, Chihuahuas.
I wouldn’t have believed this possible, though, until I met Cosette. And even then, when I first laid eyes on her at a dog adoption fair in Los Angeles I nearly kept right on walking. I was searching for a dog that would bound up 14ers with me, run recklessly across the mountainsides with me, and share a campfire with me while we stared together at stars and ate S’mores. The kind of dog that would inspire me to take grand adventures on the open road and would love nothing more than to ride shotgun with me into the distance.
And Cosette–well I wasn’t even sure that she could walk around the block with me. She looked like a sickly coyote pup. She had runny eyes, an aggressive case of mange, and she smelled like a ripe wool sock that had spent one too many days in a hiking boot.
But the rescuer who brought Cosette to the fair worked me over with the determined guile of a used car salesman. Cosette, the rescuer claimed, was simply a fixer-upper. She would only get better and more beautiful with time. Sure, when the rescuer initially found Cosette she could barely walk, was covered in scabs, and was oozing pus, but now she had an entire half a coat of fur and plenty of interest in adventures.
And if I would just be willing to fill out a bit of paperwork—and be sure to include my phone number–I could be added to the ostensibly long list of people interested in this dog.
The next morning–before I’d even made it out of bed–I received a call from the rescuer: After careful consideration and a thorough review of my paperwork, I had been selected as THE perfect match for Cosette. Of course I later found out the selection process came down to me and well, me, since I was the only person who had expressed any interest at all in Cosette.
And I’m a bit ashamed to admit this now, but I almost backed out. That’s because in addition to her health issues, Cosette spent most of our first two weeks together trembling in a corner behind the sofa and maintaining a near-constant distance of two feet. As for our initial “adventures,” they consisted of walking around the perimeter of our apartment building.
But even the most legendary adventurers begin with small journeys before tackling Everest.
And so did we. Eventually we explored the neighborhood together. And then we climbed to Griffith Park observatory together.
And pretty soon I discovered that Chihuahuas can make fantastic running partners–especially Cosette. With her newfound adventure confidence she ran roughshod for miles over the labyrinth of dirt trails that crisscross Griffith Park.
And they love road trips! When I moved back home to Colorado, Cosette jumped eagerly into the car to be my co-pilot across the Southwest. When I spent six weeks filming in remote regions of the Four Corners, Cosette faithfully followed me up the mountains and through the deserts.
And by the time I drove to New England to film the autumn foliage on the Blue Ridge Parkway, the Kancamagus Byway, and the National Historic Road, Cosette was an old pro at being my pocket-sized adventure buddy.
But Cosette isn’t a rarity in the Chihuahua world. Even though Chihuahuas are the smallest breed of dog, they are legendary for their intelligence, loyalty, energy, and bravery.
The Mayans and Aztecs even considered the ancestors of the modern Chihuahua sacred and believed the breed possessed the ability to guide the dead safely to the afterlife. And while there aren’t any Labradors in the Sistine Chapel, the same can’t be said for Chihuahuas: a dog that resembles a Chihuahua graces Botticelli’s fresco depicting the Trials of Moses.
A few months ago, I adopted a second Chihuahua, Murci, from the Ranchos de Chihuahua sanctuary in Chimayo, New Mexico. At 8 pounds she’s even smaller than Cosette. We went on our first hike as a trio this summer and Murci’s now officially an adventure dog-in-training. And while we have no plans to hunt ducks or jump into a pickup truck and go backcountry skiing, we’ve got plenty of other adventures ahead.
And Murci is a natural at it. Because, after all, she’s a Chihuahua.
by Walker Parks | on December 1st, 2011 | in Features, Swag the Dog
OK, here’s the conundrum. You want to bike to work, but you also work at one of those exceptionally cool companies that lets you bring your dog to work. You can either teach your dog to heel perfectly beside you, even in heavy traffic (extremely dangerous), or … you can get one of these new Croozer Designs dog chariots. It’s essentially a crate on wheels and provides a safe harbor for your pup at sporting events like Ultimate™ frisbee tournaments and Critical Mass rides.
by Grayson Schaffer | on November 2nd, 2011 | in Features
Danger at Spago, in Beaver Creek. He's such a messy drunk.
Ah, Josh, the old damnation by adulation trick. But let’s face it, you just can’t help talking about Labs.
As dogs go, I prefer the ones that can wear their mud, pull shotgunned ducks from the freezing marsh, and show up for drinks at Spago without so much as a bath. (No offense, Jack, but the blow-dried look is so Westminster.)
The beauty in a well-trained Lab—training is crucial, because without it they’re as crazy as any cur—is a go-for-broke athletic drive paired with a blessed off-switch. I’ve got two of them that sleep under my desk all day and go everywhere and do everything with me. The yellow weighs just 55 pounds and is tough, calm, and faithful. He holds out a paw for me to snip his nails and pull cactus spurs, and even Superglue a ski-edge laceration. The chocolate, Danger, is faithful.
He’s not obedient, but he’s by far the smartest dog I know. They say border collies can learn 150 words. A toddler can do that. Danger has taught himself how to open the fridge like he’s got opposable thumbs. He pretends like he’s just going to the kitchen for water, peeks around the corner to see if anyone’s looking, and then helps himself. I read somewhere that deception is one of the most advanced forms of cognition and that only humans and maybe one or two great apes can do it. It requires empathy—placing yourself in your opponent’s reality in order to outsmart him (me).
Labs also inspire empathy. That’s why Hollywood mints tear jerkers about them every few years. There’s a reason Yeller and Marley were Labs. They do the cute human things with their eyes. That and it’s a lot harder to make a thrilling scene about a boy and his dog going herding.
A light-framed field-bred Lab, can run like a husky—even Iditarod king Lance Mackey mixes some Lab genetics into his sled-dog lines—swim like a Newfy, and snooze like Homer Simpson. They do a lot of the same working-dog jobs border collies and Aussies are good at, but they excel at one in particular: hunting.
Despite being brought up in polite urban society and kept safely away from our one or two southern uncles, guys our age are finding their way back to hunting. I don’t really have hard numbers to back my claim, but easily half the guys I work with have taken it up in the last five years—most of them not having hunted with their fathers. And on this score, there just isn’t a more versatile hunting dog than the Labrador retriever. I’ve skied a lot of powder runs and kayaked some nice rivers, and I’m telling you: watching a dog you trained find a bird and then make a long retrieve after the shot is every bit as good.
by Josh Dean | on October 27th, 2011 | in Features, Who's Cutest?
First things first, I don’t own an Australian shepherd. I don’t even own a dog. I live in an apartment, in New York City, with an 18-month-old boy and at the moment my 1,000-square-feet can only handle one semi-tame animal. This puts me at a decided disadvantage against Grayson, who lives with a pack of 11 UK labs in a log cabin he built himself from trees his dogs felled using only their teeth. So while I have spent the past year reporting a book that features an Australian shepherd, in the process becoming a major fan of the breed and a believer in its all-around awesomeness, I can hardly argue from any experiential perspective against a guy who has hunted, fished, skied, hiked, camped, spelunked and forest-fire-fought (yes, I know – not an actual term) with his dogs. Grayson’s labs fetch him beers from the fridge, belay him when he’s rock-climbing, and, on cold, damp nights in the bush, lie still and flat in a line, forming a warm, living mattress on which he sleeps. So, yeah, how do I beat that?
I’ll tell you how. By reminding him that he’s the one who told me that Aussies were the world’s best adventure dogs in the first place! He said this as we were collaborating on a only partly serious Man’s Guide to Dogs for GQ*, and I was singing the breed’s praises as a tireless, enthusiastic partner in all things active. On top of everything else, Grayson told me, Aussies are ideal for Outside Magazine types because they’re the only dogs you can reliably bike with. They can and will (happily) keep up for rides that last all day, have only limited chase instinct (their job, after all, was to contain cattle, not pursue it), and unlike other herding dogs, don’t have a bite or nip instinct. Thus, according to Grayson, the Australian shepherd makes the ultimate adventure dog. That alone means I win, but in the interest of a good argument, I will add a few further scraps of evidence.
1. Nearly all dogs get tired, eventually. Labs, as much as they really, really (really) want to stick with you, will eventually wear out and want a beer and a down-filled LL Bean bed. Aussies, on the other hand, are tireless. They will run until you can’t anymore, and then they will run more.
2. Aussies were bred to herd just about everything, including cattle. These are animals that don’t always enjoy being harassed, and have horns and hooves they don’t hesitate to deploy. Aussies had to learn to dodge said weapons, and any dogs that were afraid of large, angry animals were removed from breeding programs. Thus, today’s dogs are pretty much unfazed by things like bears and mountain lions.
3. There is no more athletic dog on earth. A good Aussie can outrun a speeding bullet, leap a three-story building, and swim the English Channel. It is one of the few breeds you will find excelling at every recognized AKC dog sport: agility, obedience, tracking, dock jumping, etc.
4. They’re really smart, consistently near the top of all dog intelligence rankings.
5. They love their owners. A lot. Which means that even if they don’t 100% love whatever it is you’re asking them to do, they’ll do it, and will be happy just because you’re happy. The breed’s nickname, after all, is the Velcro dog.
*that certain people took way too seriously
Josh Dean is an Outside correspondent and the author of the forthcoming SHOW DOG, which HarperCollins will publish in February 2012.
by Grayson Schaffer | on October 24th, 2011 | in Features, Training
Some people have Burning Man. For the last two years, I’ve cleared my schedule and made the 17-hour drive north to a certain repurposed mine-foreman’s house in North Dakota. On the agenda for the week: pheasants. My editor recently asked me if I was really taking a vacation and driving cross-country just to kill things—again. To be fair, chasing ditch parrots, as the Nodakkers call them, makes at least as much sense as driving to a place that’s good for riding bicycles or kayaking down a freezing rocky river where you could drown, or any of the other things we do for fun.
The simple explanation, for the uninitiated, is that bird hunting is actually more about the hunting dogs—British Labradors for most of us—than anything else. Here’s an animal endowed by nature to run faster, jump higher, and smell more acutely than any human. And through years of selective breeding, patience, reinforcement, and, who are we kidding, the occasional profane outburst, a good Lab will put those inhuman abilities to work for the handler. Occasionally, when everything aligns perfectly—bird and gun and scent and dog—it can seem like the connection between retriever and handler is plain English.
It’s that connection that brings this same crew—most of them from Alaska—together ever year. We all have dogs out of Mike Stewart’s Wildrose Kennels in Oxford, Mississippi, and we all do our best to train using the low-force, positive-reinforcement ethic that Stewart promotes. Getting together means getting a lot of good dogs together. When you turn 15 dogs loose in the same pheasant field, there’s either chaos or there isn’t. Mostly, there isn’t.
Here, then, are the (unofficial) rules of dog etiquette for people who take their gun dogs seriously—but not too seriously.
- Your dog might be the best dog in the field back home, but that likelihood lessens with each mile driven.
- Undersell your dog—always. He can speak for himself.
- Everytime you’re about to brag about your dog, stop yourself and complement another dog’s fine retrieve from the day, instead. Don’t worry, this is not a selfless act because,
- Only the underdog can overachieve. The best the overdog can do is meet expectations.
- If your dog breaks and steals a retrieve from another dog, you must berate your dog loudly. This is for the benefit of the other hunter and will have no effect on your dog’s behavior whatsoever.
- OK, now put a leash on him.
- Never give another guy a hard time about his dog. Believe me, he knows.
- Instead, refer to number 3: Acceptable: “That dog sure has a lot of drive.”
- When your dog honors, then makes a long retrieve through heavy cover, and returns with a lightly wounded bird, you’d better sound at least as happy as an eight-year-old girl who’s been given a pony for Christmas. (Not saying my dog has ever made a retrieve like this. But man, Jay, Duke sure makes those long falls look easy, don’t he?)
- When your dog leans against you, it either means that he’s trying to dominate you or that he has an itch he’d like you to scratch. Your call.
by Walker Parks | on October 17th, 2011 | in Features, Swag the Dog, Things Dogs Wear
Danger: Let me just slip into something more comfortable
If you’ve ever experienced that problem of a wet or muddy dog messing up your furniture or car upholstery, here’s a solution from same folks who make the FURminator fur remover. The new FUR Dry wearable dog towel simultaneously dries your dog’s fur and keeps it from making contact with, well, anything you don’t want to smell like a wet dog. Works great for post-grooming, too.
by Walker Parks | on September 20th, 2011 | in Books, Features, Media
Next week, wildlife photographer Art Wolfe releases a compilation of his favorite dog photos from around the world. With and introduction captions and intros by noted dog-book author Jeffrey Masson, Dogs Make Us Human ($30, Bloomsbury) illustrates the universal bond between humans and dogs.
“Our relationship with dogs is the single most important symbiotic relationship between humans and another species on the planet,” writes Masson in his introduction, “the most delightful and in many ways still the most mysterious.”
Wolfe’s photos span the globe. Dogs Make Us Human introduces readers to Kelpies herding sheep in New Zealand, sled dogs pulling sleds in the northern Cascades, and Yorkies in cute outfits. Put it on your coffee table.
by PattyHodapp | on September 20th, 2011 | in Features
CaliforniaDFG/Flickr
LAST NIGHT, Ali Carr Troxell, Outside’s associate managing editor, her two dogs, and I stumbled upon a mountain lion—or, rather, Ali’s dogs did. We rounded a bend on a single-track ridge a mile and a half up the Tesuque Creek trail, near Santa Fe, New Mexico. It was just before dusk around 7 P.M. The breeze shifted, and the dogs—Rio, a German Shorthaired Pointer-Rhodesian Ridgeback mix, and Odin, a Boxer mix—took off howling after a new scent towards the creek bed 20-feet below. Rio sprang. Odin yapped. Something growled.
“Sounds like they treed something,” Ali said. “Reeeoooh, Ohhhhdin, let’s go!” she called. The growling grew lower. Odin’s barking went up an octave.
“That doesn’t sounds like a squirrel,” I said, scanning the treetops. I saw it—a colossal, golden-red, eight-foot-long lump of fur with green eyes arched upward on a tree branch. I thought it was a deer. It didn’t make sense. Then it dawned on me.
“Oh my God, Ali, that’s a mountain lion!” It looked like a lioness from a zoo, except that there was no Plexiglas wall between us.
We looked at each other. And we did exactly what you’re not supposed to do. We ran like hell.
“Rio! Odin! Let’s go!” we both screamed, over and over again. The dogs wouldn’t stop barking or clawing up the tree. Fifty yards down the trail we stopped. White faces. Shaking. Out of breath.
“I don’t know what to do,” Ali said, “should we go back for the dogs?”
“No way, run!” I gasped. We took off again, jumping over rocks, boulders, wooden beams, half-buried roots. My Asics shoelace untied. We didn’t stop. The dogs, realizing we left, chased after us. We ran harder.
“Talk loudly, keep talking!” Ali yelled up ahead.
“OK!” I yelled back, “How big do you think that was? At least 300 pounds, maybe 350!”
“Keep going! Keep running!” she yelled.
Beads of sweat—the product of exertion and fear— dripped down my temples. Invisible knives scraped out my lungs. I contemplated chucking my heavy aluminum water bottle so I could run faster. My mind spun in circles.
I’m too young to die.
It could be stalking us from the treetops.
Oh, God, that’s a big rock.
I’ll never be late to work again if we can just get out of here alive.
I wish I had my phone to tweet about this.
Chancing a backward glance, I expected to see a flash of golden-red before three-inch claws ripped out my throat. We ran at a full sprint for 13 minutes back toward Ali’s Volvo. When we got there, we opened the hatchback to let the dogs in, and jumped inside pulling our doors shut. Then we started laughing and swearing.
TODAY I CALLED Outside’s former building manager and resident lion expert, Peter Romero, to find out how lucky we’d been. Romero, who’s 42 and lives in Pojoaque, New Mexico, is a professional hunting and fishing guide and has “harvested,” as he puts it, dozens of the big cats.
In his entire 20-year career as a guide, he has never seen a lion that he wasn’t pursuing with a pack of trained lion dogs.
“You are lucky to have seen the lion, but it was a very dangerous situation,” Romero tells me. He said mountain lions generally attack from behind, so most people don’t actually see the lion before they’re dead.
“You’re pretty lucky you ran away from a mountain lion and it didn’t attack you,” he says. Romero likened lions’ behavior to that of house cats who kill mice for sport. “Running was the worst possible thing you could have done,” he said. If the lion hadn’t been in a tree with dogs barking at it, our movement might have triggered it to attack instinctually. “You’re supposed to hold your ground, scream, make loud noises, ring a hiking bell, and even urinate,” says Romero. “Human scent is the most threatening thing to wild animals.”
If we had stuck around any longer, and the lion had decided to pounce, Ali and I both would’ve peed our pants.
Romero doesn’t think our current drought is bad enough to make the local lions resort to man eating, but he also thinks the dogs saved us. Rio is part Rhodesian Ridgeback, a breed specially selected to hunt African lions, and Odin is built like a prize fighter and kicks some serious butt.
Romero has never seen a lion attack one of his dogs unless it’s cornered. He thinks the dogs’ holding the lion at bay gave us enough time to escape.
“I’m serious,” Romero said. “The dogs probably saved your life.”
AFTER WE MADE IT back to Ali’s house, I drank a Heineken tallboy and dialed 911 to let Fish and Game know that there was a blood-thirsty lion loose in the woods. At 3 A.M., when I finally relaxed enough to fall asleep, I dreamed I bought two dogs, bear mace, and a gun. A really big gun.
by Ryan Krogh | on August 25th, 2011 | in Features, Training
This past weekend, Mike Stewart and our friends over at Wildrose Kennels put on one of their popular Adventure Dog programs in Buena Vista, Colorado. The class is designed to show dog owners all the skills they and their pups need to do everything from float rivers to mountain bike together. I was at the class with Magnolia, my eight-month-old yellow lab, and came away with plenty of new tips. I also came away with a new appreciation for the mistakes I was making with her that kept setting her back. And I wasn’t the only one. Here are the seven mistakes that nearly everyone in the class, included me, made—and how you avoid them with your own pooch.
Adventure Dogs On the Trail
Mistake #1: Not Mastering the Basics
Most dogs sit and lie down at home just fine. They’ll even heel around the block. But add in a new location, like hiking on an unfamiliar trail or walking down a crowded Main Street, and the dog is pulling on the leash, trying to chase rabbits, or chomping at a four-year-old’s ice cream cone. It’s simply because the dog hasn’t mastered all the fundamental skills: Sit, Stay, Here, Heel, and Leave It. As soon as you add in a new stimulus or a new location the dog goes off track, because those skills haven’t been fully ingrained yet.
Correction: Dogs are place-oriented. Your pup may be able to sit still in the house, but not so in the campsite while you’re roasting marshmallows. So practice having him sit in multiple locations. Same with heeling: Don’t always take the dog on the same after-work walk. He’ll do fine in familiar territory, because the routine is familiar, but he’ll run off as soon as he sees a chipmunk while hiking. Mike Stewart’s rule is that if a dog can consistently perform the skill five times in five different locations, with a distraction or two thrown in, he’ll be able to do that skill nearly anywhere.
Mistake #2: Being Inconsistent With the Dog
The tendency for most dog owners is to want a dog that is chill around the house but on point as soon as you step out the front door. It’s impossible to get that unless you act nearly the same in the house as out the door. As Stewart is fond of saying, “Dogs are not an On/Off switch. They’re creatures of habit.” What he means is that if you let a dog run roughshod over the house, that’s exactly what he’ll do when you open the door.
Correction: You need to be consistent with how you reward and scold them, so that the dog actually learns. If you want a dog to sit and stay still whenever you want, you need to work on that in the house first. And yes that means you’ll need to change your routine with the dog, because your daily routine with him needs to line up with your end goal. Instead of letting him have the run of the house, make sure he sits still on a mat. Then do that in five different locations. The add in a stimulus, like a kidding running around or a ball tossed in front of him. When it comes time to sit around the campfire, he’ll be ready sit calmly and not dive after your marshmallow the first chance he gets.
Water Break
Mistake #3: Using Rewards Indiscriminately
All weekend long, we saw various dogs misbehaving, wandering around, and then getting petted when they sidled up to someone. That’s rewarding the dog for misbehaving, even if it wasn’t you that did the misrewarding. The indiscriminate rewarding also happened with owners who were petting (or worse, feeding) their dogs when they came up while we were sitting around a picnic table eating lunch.
Correction: Make sure you’re not reinforcing bad habits by encouraging them. The classic example is whining or barking. If walk outside every time they whine, they’ll quick put two and two together and keep on whining to get you to come out the door. The dog is training you at that point. Leave them be until they’re quiet, then go over and pet them. The same thing goes for feeding. If your dog is begging you for food at a BBQ and you feed him, don’t be surprised when he starts hopping up on your lap at the dinner table. Playing tug of war with the dog? No wonder he chews on everything and then brings it to you to destroy further. Instead, play games with a purpose so that you can focus the dog on things you want. Around the house, you can work on getting your dog to “Shake” hands with you or jump “Over” your lifted leg. They view this as fun. On a walk, don’t let them retrieve tennis balls randomly. Throw one that they have to ignore, and then another that they can pick up by you calling their name. That way you can reward good behavior at the right time and keep the dog focused. The mental energy expended on these games will often be more than enough to wear the dog out.
Mistake #4: Relying Too Much On Verbal Commands
“Dogs don’t talk,” Stewart said all weekend, earning him a chuckle every time. But he’s right: dogs have no idea what you’re saying. They only associate a verbal sound that you make with a behavior that you’ve reinforced. The much stronger message is always sent via body language or the tone of your voice. Most people were yelling a screaming at their dogs in long complicated sentences to get back in line—all of which meant little to the dog.
Correction: Dogs are extremely perceptive. Try a training session in which you don’t say a word and only attempt to communicate to the dog via your body language or hand signals. You’ll be amazed at what the dog picks up. Now add that same “language” to the specific command you’re working on. Be stern when the dog does something bad, but effusive when he does something right.
Mistake #5: Missing the Dog’s Signals
Just like your dog picks up on your nonverbal cures, you can pick up on the dog’s noverbal cues. If he is supposed to be sitting still but he’s leaning a little too far forward as another dog passes, you can bet they’re about to break. Same thing goes for a high tail, or a raised head. A dog is always communicating.
Correction: At least three times during the weekend I saw dogs give signs before they bolted away from their owners, snapped at another dog, or barked at a waitress. It’s only because I happened to be watching them at that exact moment. Pay attention to your dog, and make mental notes on any signs he gave that preceded an unwanted behavior. If he gives those signs in the future, rather than testing the dog, simply call their name to have them refocus on you. That way you don’t have to continually make harsh corrections when the dog gets out of line.
Mistake #6: Forgetting that Praise Is Just as Important as Scolding
We saw this one all weekend, and I’ll admit that I’m guilty of it myself. When a dog does something bad, everyone’s natural reaction is to scold him immediately so the he learns not to do it again. But many people forget to praise is just as effective, except you have to be just as effusive with it. More often that not, when a dog does something good, that’s all they’re rewarded with, a terse “good.”
Correction: If the dog has just done something exceptionally well, or done something for the first time, don’t be afraid to get down and make a show of it. Praise him while petting. Tell him “Good Sit,” “Good Stay,” “Good Backflip,” or whatever he did right. That way he learns without harsh corrections exactly what it is you want him to do.
Mistake #7: Expecting Your Dog to Change Overnight
It’s just not going to happen, unfortunately. Younger dogs will pick up habits, so instilling them with correct habits is much easier than correcting bad habits. Older dogs with ingrained habits will be much more difficult to change. (But it’s not impossible.) It just takes time, and you need to be realistic about how much time it actually takes, whether to train a new pup or retrain an old dog with new tricks.
Correction: The good news is that dogs are sponges: they pick up whatever you’re throwing at them. You just need to keep practicing it with them until it becomes a habit (again, older dogs will be harder but not impossible). But it’s your responsibility to incorporate that training or retraining into the dog’s everyday life. And do it consistently over many days and months. Stewart reiterated multiple times over the weekend that “You need to begin with the end in mind.” He meant that if you don’t have a vision for what you want out of your dog, you won’t be able to recognize the necessary steps that you need to do in order to get them there. Make the training and dog’s daily life line up with what you want. And again, don’t expect change overnight. But if you’re consistent and diligent, pretty soon the dog will be heeling on command, coming back to you every time you tell him to, and getting a beer out of the fridge, if that’s really all you want.
by Dave Cox | on August 17th, 2011 | in Features, Your Questions
I remember thinking that a rattlesnake sure can coil up fast, but that was just during the moment before it struck, which was an eternity compared to the flash of fangs that hit Daisy.
She stood nearly four feet away from that thing, and I swear she was just about to lock into a point at it—she’s a German Shorthair after all—FLASH, RECOIL, RATTLE, YELP. Then me yelling NNNNOOOO! in a B-movie sort of slow motion. She ran to me, nose bloodied, as that thing sat coiled and rattling for a second helping. They say those snakes rattle to warn you not to come near, but I didn’t hear a report out of this one until after, almost as if to say: you want some more? come on!
In Northern New Mexico where I live, there are two types of viper: the green-hued Prairie Rattler, like the one that hit Daisy, and the larger, more venomous Diamondback. But I wasn’t thinking “what a bit of luck, it was only a little one” as drove her to the Veterinary ER in Santa Fe. Twenty four hours and $1,800 later, she seems in pretty good shape.
Unfortunately, this wasn’t my first run in with a poisonous snake. Several years ago my dog Zeke was bit, and he survived, and the only difference in treatment was antivenom. Herein lies the debate in the veterinary community around here, whether or not to give the dog the $600 treatment. My country vet rarely uses the antivenom, he says that in 20 years, he’s treated 20 dogs a year, and only lost two, and he adds that the injection isn’t completely benign, and that a dog can suffer a reaction to the cure. First do no harm. The vet at the ER suggested antivenom and I didn’t hesitate, and she was up and around, virtually pain free, within two days, where as Zeke was a suffering piñata of edema for more than a week. Anecdotal? For sure, but if this happens again, I’m paying for the vaccine.
by Dave Cox | on August 11th, 2011 | in Features, Swag the Dog
The Ruffwear isn’t the first ski joring system I’ve used. My first setup (no need to drop names here) used inch-wide webbing bonded together with stitches and glue, and although like the Ruffwear, it had a shock cord between me and my dog, it shredded apart before the snow melted. What makes the Ruffwear a superior system, I believe, is that it employs fabric stitched together like a backpack that lies across the top of Daisy’s back, the webbing is then stitched onto the pack’s body. I haven’t skied with it yet, but I’ve been trail running, which is far more jolting because I’m not sliding, and it’s holding up well, even when a random squirrel forces us to take the path less traveled. My only gripe is the front of the harness doesn’t have a quick release, making it a bit of a hassle to put on an excited dog at trailhead, but it is otherwise a great system, the belt has an emergency quick release should you take a tumble, or hit a snag, and it has pouches and a slot for a water bottle.
by Grayson Schaffer | on August 1st, 2011 | in Features, Training
You're totally putting this on the Internet, aren't you
According to the literature, dogs aren’t good at generalizing skills. If you teach your dog to rollover in one direction in the living room, teaching him to rollover in the other direction out in the yard will require starting from scratch. That’s what I thought about generalizing, anyway. Then I tried to put Danger on a diet.
A couple of weeks ago, I noticed that Big D was getting a bit wide in the midsection—probably as a result of knocking over his food bin a few times and New Mexico’s national forests and hiking trails being closed to prevent the rabble from torching the place. So I cut his rations back to one cup per day. That’s when the trouble began. Anybody who’s ever had a chocolate Labrador will tell you that they’ve got a wookie’s love of food. Danger will watch you out of the corner of his eye and knock over the trash if senses any inattention. I used to grab him by the ear or the hair of his chin and scold him, but lately he’s been simultaneously crying over his punishment and still leaning down to the floor to scarf a few more morsels before I can reach them.
Then, two days ago, he became self ware. I’d taught him to get beers out of the fridge as a party trick. To open the fridge, he tugs on a rope that’s tied to the door. But since he didn’t generalize the skill, he never thought to just tug open the fridge anytime he got hungry, which is all the time. But hunger is a great motivator of innovation. On Monday, I left him in his kennel in the yard but didn’t lock the gate with a carabiner. He flipped open the latch, ran around to the front door, shoved that open with his nose, taught himself to open the fridge, cleaned it out (including a pound of cheries), was still hungry, opened the door to the pantry, and ate five pounds of dog food.
My bad, right? I’d stupidly left the tug strap on the fridge. On Wednesday, with the strap gone, Danger presumably transferred what he knows about hooking a paw around the inside of a gate to pull the fridge door open. That was fridge heist number two—two more bricks of cheese and a pound of chicken. By this morning, he was opening the fridge when I was in the next room.
Since Danger has been on a diet, he’s eaten at least 12,000 calories worth of raw meat and dairy products while adding enough fiber (those cherries and a pot of black beans) to keep himself regular. But there’s a valuable lesson to all this: If you train while your dog is hungry, it’s going to make him smarter—or at least more determined to earn those treats.
by Steven Kotler | on July 29th, 2011 | in Features, Small Furry Blog
Ex-Hollywood Madam's New Career (Animal Planet)
So about seven years ago the LA Weekly sent me to Nevada to write a story about Ex-Hollywood Madam Heidi Fleiss, who was then trying to go legit and open up the America’s first all male brothel. The story was just about as crazy as you might expect. You can read the original here. But one reason the whole experience was so nuts was because Fleiss was then grieving for her neighbor. As she told me—when she got out of jail and moved to Nevada she moved to a weird little town called Pahrump. She knew very little about the place beforehand, but ended up buying property next to a lady she described as “the oldest living hooker in Nevada.” As these things go, the oldest hooker in Nevada loved parrots. She had dozens. Just before I went to interview Heidi, Nevada’s oldest prostitute died—and Heidi was frantic trying to figure out what to do with all those damn birds… Well according to today’s New York Times she figured it out. Ladies and Gentleman, may I suggest a career trajectory in the key of “P”. Prostitutes to Prison to Pahrump to Parrots to Pet Therapy. Animal Planet debuts their new show Heidi Fleiss: Prostitutes to Parrots this week.
Steven Kotler is the author of A Small Furry Prayer and co-founder of the small-dog rescue Rancho de Chihuahua, in Chimayo, New Mexico.
by Joy Nicholson | on July 28th, 2011 | in Features, Tidbits
Well…when a dog is using it as a toy! The same goes for a roll of toilet-paper, or a door-knob, or a bottle-top, a Dream-Catcher, a feather-duster, or even an empty Evian bottle. Etc.
About 15 years ago a dear friend of mine was studying Buddhism. He happened to be around when my then foster-dog trotted out of the bathroom, holding a very chewed toilet-scrubber between his happy lips, taunting me with dips and play-bows to ‘come-n-get-it.’ I lunged for it, and my happy foster ran away, scrubber joyfully bobbing as he ran to and fro between closets, kitchen, living-room, laundry-room and bedroom. Of course the scrubber ended up in the bed–on my pillow.
“Gross!” I cried. “That’s just too gross for words! He has toys, why does he want to play with a toilet-scrubber! I mean, DisGusTing!”
My serious Buddhist friend said, with the kind of seriousness only a religious student can pull-off, ” To you, it cleans your waste-receptacle. But to him it’s a wonderfully, marvelously shaped toy. It has the right shape and size to mimic a stick, and truly fun filaments on the edges to gnaw on. Plus you left it on the floor, for him to find and play with. And the interesting thing is that you are BOTH right. But you have different perspectives on it.”
Though I hemmed and hawed and sputtered, ( I mean I bought the thing. I paid money for it as a toilet-scrubber) I couldn’t help but see my friend’s point. “Bought’ and ‘money’ didn’t mean anything to my foster dog, and never will to any dog. ‘Buying and money and general finance’ is a human issue. Shape and size and desirability and access meant everything to my foster. Utility meant and will always mean everything to a dog.
Needless to say, many things are kept high in our house now. Especially with a houseful of fosters. Anything at ground level is scanned for ‘dog fun factors’ ( would a dog want to chew it? Pee on it? Play tug with it? Bury it? If so, up it goes!) We humans at the RdC no longer see a toilet scrubber as ONLY a toilet scrubber, or a tennis shoe as only footwear, or a TV remote as a television-operator. Because to a dog, an object does not have the same meaning. Financial and practical terms, in the human sense, make NO sense to a dog.
Is it chewy, interesting, or potentially fun-making? That’s how a dog sees an object. Even a toilet-scrubber. Even a purse that a trendy human will spend ten thousand dollars to buy. ( Chewy! says the dog! Still smells like Crocodile and Cougar! Yum! I’ll hunt that, yesiree!)
The duality of objects never fails to fascinate me. To me, an empty potato chip bag inspires hideous remorse. ( Did I really eat the whole thing? In ten minutes! Oy Vey! I suck! Again!) To our fosters it inspires a good game of game of tug-o-war. ” Look what I got! This toy that crackles and smells really good! Yay! Catch me if you can!”
Joy Nicholson is the author of The Tribes of Palos Verdes and the founder of the Rancho de Chihuahua dog rescue, in Chimayo, New Mexico. You can also find this post on her blog.
by Ryan Krogh | on July 27th, 2011 | in Features, Swag the Dog
Wildrose Magnolia (Nolie)
1. Food and Water Bowl: The bread and butter of owning a dog. Invest in a stainless steel version like PETCO’s Stainless Steel Non-Tip Bowl (from $6; petco.com) for a every-day use. To keep it clean, all you’ll need to do is rinse it out and let it air dry. And you won’t have to worry about breaking it, which is an all-too-common problem with trendier ceramic bowls. For hiking, rafting, and road trips, invest in a collapsible one like Ruffwear’s Bivy Bowl ($20; ruffwear.com), which is wide enough at the top to allow even large breeds to scarf from it, but is light enough (less than two ounces) to fit unnoticeably in the corner your backpack. [Quick tip: For dogs that spill water on the floor while drinking—i.e. every dog out there—Orvis offers a highly-absorbent mat ($39; orvis.com) to keep the kitchen tiles dry and our friends at Wildrose Trading Company offer a spill-proof Buddy Bowl.]
2. Collars: They’re as important as food bowls. Two things that you’ll want to consider: 1. They’re like clothes for your dog. After a while, Fido will look naked without one. 2. As such, using the same collar for more than a few months gets boring. Change it up. Every pet company out there makes a collar, which is perfect. Here are three of the best: 1.) Dublin Dog: The best part about them? They’re stench-free, thanks to the a blend of nonporous polymers. They also come in a variety of colors and sizes. (From $22; dublindog.com) 2.) Filson Leather Dog Collar: Classic. Classy. Durable. The only downside is they’re not waterproof, which means they’re perfect for a German Shorthaired Pointer, but less than ideal for a water-loving Lab. ($36; filson.com) 3.) TufFlex Center Ring Dog Collar: It has the look and feel of leather but it’s made from a special type of plastic that is mildew and bacteria resistant, meaning the collar is maintenance free. Plus, it’s practically indestructible. (From $10)
Nolie with Dublin Dog's Simply Solid collar
3. Lead: You can’t walk your dog, or train her to heel, without a good lead. Filson’s Leather Dog Leash ($46; filson.com) is both stylish and effective. For leash work, though, you can’t beat the horse-reign dot tread used in the Wildrose Kennels Combination Training Lead Set ($40; uklabs.com), which, because it’s made from plastic, won’t absorb water, and is damn near chew-proof—not that you should be letting your dog chew on her leash. [Note: retractable leashes are good only if you like teasing your dog—“I’m free! … or not. I’m free! … ow, my neck …”—and instilling bad behaviors like running away at all times.
Nolie on Ruffwear's Mt. Bachelor Pad
4. Beds: Some dogs will ignore them and sleep on the carpet. (Grayson’s dog Danger only sleeps on the sofa.) But most dogs end up loving them. Ruffwear’s Mt. Bachelor Pad ($60; ruffwear.com) is easy to clean (i.e. machine-washable), rolls into a beach-towel-sized bedroll for easy transport, and has its velcro straps that are smartly hidden underneath the mat to keep chew-prone dogs from going after them. And REI’s inflatable Dog Dream Bed is so comfortable that if it were two feet longer it would make a perfect camping mat—for humans. ($55; rei.com).
5. Crate: Yes, crate training can be traumatizing (mostly for you and your hippie roommate’s Dr. Doolittle friends, not the dog), but consider it a necessary evil, like your kids’ percussion lessons. The more comfortable a dog is in her crate, the easier it is for you to travel with her—and the more settled they’ll be around the house. Also, they’re great house-training tools. Every time you take her out of the crate, usher her to the same spot in the yard. Just make sure you get the appropriate sized crate: it’s better to be too small at first than too big. For larger breeds that grow quickly, you’re better off investing in a starter crate that’s smaller in size and then getting a full-sized one later on. For the house, Grrreat Choice’s Dog Carrier is a cheap, easy option (from $20; PetSmart.com), and is airline safe. For road trips, get Orvis’s Collapsible Dog Travel Crate (from $179; orvis.com), which can be broken down to fit easily into the trunk or backseat of a car. It’s a little finicky, but durable enough. For young pups or smaller dogs, the SleepyPod Air is perfect for traveling ($160; sleepypod.com). At six weeks old, I drove back from Mississippi (to Santa Fe) with Nolie and she slept nearly the entire way.
Sleepypod nap, somwhere between Mississippi and New Mexico
6. Poop Scoop: What else can we say: It happens. And you’re going to have to clean it up. Every local pet store will carries a scoop. Bog-box-store PetSmart sells a basic spade and scoop pan for $24 (petsmart.com)—a no-brainer bargain.
Who, me?
7. Indoor Cleaner: As much as we’d all like to think our pup is perfect (or will be), accidents are bound to happen. Be prepared with a pet-specific cleaner like Nature Miracle’s Stain and Odor Remover ($7; ilovenaturesmiracle.com).
8. Grooming Tools/Health-care items: This category could fill it’s own list because of how important it is to keep your pup healthy. But three things you should always have on hand: Brush. Nail trimmer. Saline solution. 1. Brush: It’s a basic self-explanatory item, but different coats will require different types of brushes. A pin brush, which has rounded mental “pins,” is a standard go-to for most breeds but is best for dogs with long-haired, thin coats, because it will easily comb the hair without pulling it out. JW Pet GripSoft Pin Dog Brush is good choice ($10). Curry brushes are better for dogs with smooth coats, like Labs. Top Paw’s Rubber Curry Brush is a great, cheap option. ($8). Slicker brushes, with their narrow, stainless steel pins on a flexible rubber base are the go-to choice for removing knots and tangles. Four Paws Ultimate Touch Slicker Wire Brush is a standard choice ($12). 2. Nail Clipper: Your dog’s nails will grow, and if they grow too long it will increase the chance that they’ll break off while your dog is running on pavement or rocks. As a general rule, the nails should be trimmed when they reach the ground in a standing position. ConairPro Yellow Dog Soft Grip Nail Clippers will do the trick ($10). 3. Saline Solution: This one is often overlooked, but eye issues are an extremely common problem with dogs—especially ones running through tall grass or on dirt trails. They can easily develop an infection from a seed or piece of dirt in their eye. The easiest preventative measure is to wash a dog’ eyes out with a saline solution like Vetericyn Animal Ophthalmic Gel ($30).
Treat? Pretty please?
9. Toys: Some people let their dogs chew; some don’t. It depends both on the trainer and dog whether chew toys instill bad habits or give the dog a healthy outlet. Without toys, most pups will just make their own—out of your shoes, socks, and table legs. Just keep the “toys” separate from the “training tools”. For retriever-training, Avery’s HexaBumper is cheap and comes in different colors and sizes ($5; averysportingdog.com) while Real Duck’s firehose bumpers are more expensive but have a more natural feel ($20; realduck.com). Around the house, I let my Lab pup chew on a Dublin Dog Roxxter toy ($14; dublindog.com) to keep her from hiding (i.e. losing) all of my socks in the backyard.
10. Food: Last here, but it’s probably the most important item to consider when getting a new pup. The main things to think about are getting your new pup quality protein and fat (the carbs are mostly filler) in the right proportion. Many kibbles these days are too high in protein content. You’ll want food that has about 30-percent protein and 20-percent fat. Some dogs, based on their eventual adult size and how active they are, will require a slightly different ratio of carbs and protein, but this is a good starting point. And make sure the carbs and proteins are coming from quality sources: chicken, lamb, and beef are all fine as long as they’re coming from actual scraps of meat and not just rendered bone, blood, and ligaments. Adding human table scraps—or, if you can, whole chicken backs or low-grade meat from your local meat counter—is a good way to supplement what’s obviously lacking in, well, all dry pellet kibble. Check the labels on all foods and follow their feeding portion guidelines based on how much your dog weighs. As a pup, I fed my Lab Eukanuba’s Puppy Natural Lamb and Rice formula, which has high-quality ingredients, but isn’t ungodly expensive ($27 for a 15-pound bag; eukanuba.com). And one more quick note about food: for young pups—15 weeks or younger—try not to switch foods on them. If they’re started on Eukanuba and you want to switch, gradually mix the other food into the original food. New foods can create problems, both for the pup and your carpet.
Adventure dog all grown up ... mostly
by Chris Carpenter | on July 25th, 2011 | in Features, Training
Its all in the eyes
Want to train your retriever to take directional casting? You can make this job easier by reading your dogs eyes. One thing is for sure…dogs will always tell you which direction they want to go. All you have to do is read their eyes and then use this indicator to your advantage in training.
Just watch. Next time you go out with your pal to play bumper baseball try throwing your bumpers to first, second, and third base. Notice your dog will not only stare in the direction it wants to go but that direction is almost always the last bumper thrown.
So lets say your pal has back and over right down pat. Now you throw in the over left bumper. Make the first time easy for your pal and throw that bumper last. The dog will stare it down and take your direction with no effort.
Later you can read your dogs eyes to pull your pal away from obvious distractions too. Do the same drill as above and the distraction will be the last bumper thrown. Now cast in the opposite direction your dog is looking. This will teach your pup start depending on you for direction and not its own eyes.
Its all in the eyes so read your dog and use this information to your and the dogs advantage. My eyes are wondering off to a breakfast burrito now. Guess where I’m headed.
by Grayson Schaffer | on January 25th, 2011 | in Features, Media
Today, Outside magazine and New Belgium Brewery (Fat Tire, Ranger IPA, etc.) teamed up for the spring launch of Mighty Arrow. Get on over to their page ( http://bit.ly/mighty_arrow) and post your dog pics and videos. They’ll donate a dollar to the Humane Society for everyone who gets involved. Here’s the video Cooper and I made for our contribution.
by Ryan Krogh | on January 21st, 2011 | in Features, Media, Tidbits, Time Wasters
In three weeks, I’m bringing home a new pup—a yellow lab (girl) from Wildrose Kennels, in Oxford, Mississippi. Crates, water bowls, beds, food, insurance: that’s all been a cinch compared to coming up with a good name. Everyone I ask (and trust me, it’s been just about everyone) has a different opinion about what and how I should name my new girl. Considering that I’ll say her name something like 30,000 times over the course of her life, it’s a big decision. And I want it to have some sort of meaning. As a kid growing up in North Dakota, we named pets in one of three ways: after literary or movie characters, after flowers or trees, or after one of the booze bottles we found discarded in my uncle’s defunct chicken coop. (One notable stray was named 99 Bananas.)
The other dilemma: Which one to pick?
But now when I mention that I’m getting a dog, people give me nothing but different answers and conflicting advice: name it a human name (“it’s original because it’s a human name”), a southern name (“because she’s from the south”), a southwest name, (“you live in Santa Fe, after all”). The only way to settle it, I’ve decided, is by a handy poll, below. I’ve included my childhood methods and offers that may work. And I’ve offered some names that I like, too. But the question remains: what’s the best method for naming your new dog.
—Ryan Krogh
by Grayson Schaffer | on December 23rd, 2010 | in Features
Lame Duck Session from Walker Parks on Vimeo.
Last week, Cooper and his cousin Henry took a trip down south to find some ducks in New Mexico’s Waterfowl Management Areas. There’s nothing like a calm, dependable buddy who’s willing to swim through ice water to bring home your dinner.
Henry lets off some steam at La Joya
by Aspen Ski Patrol | on December 18th, 2010 | in Features, Training
Jane chilling out
Jane (my 5 year old black lab), my boyfriend, and I recently took a 3,000 mile road trip to Northern California for some adventure. Everywhere we went, the same dog issues kept popping up.
by Grayson Schaffer | on November 1st, 2010 | in Features, Things Dogs Wear
Ruffwear Cloud Chaser Jacket
Just in time for the first snows and ski-resort openings comes the redesigned Ruffwear Cloud Chaser soft shell. This iteration of the classic canine warm-up retains the reflective piping and fleece-lined water-resistant upper. The critical improvements are in the bottom portion of the jacket, which is more ergonomic and made from a lightweight stretch material that will move with your mutt better than ever. And the snug-fitting collar and arm(leg) holes will keep snow from building up inside. $75