Moe Has a Secret Superpower

Moe has a secret superpower, and this is how we discovered it.

Moe and His Partner in Crime Willa

There was the time my husband left his apple pie and ice cream on the kitchen counter unguarded for just a moment. Honestly, he swears he turned his back for just a split second. In that brief window of opportunity, the pie and ice cream disappeared into the stomach of the big brown dog. After an expletive utterance, I heard the common phrase we have developed “I didn’t even know he was in the room.” How could Moe have been standing by the counter without my husbanding being aware of his massive presence?  Take for another example our quiet evening watching TV in our bedroom. We like most people keep the remote control close at hand. So why then was I distracted by the distinct sound of teeth on plastic? Roused from the show, I saw Moe laying on the floor beside the bed with the remote clutched in his front paws. As with most things these days he didn’t destroy the remote, he was chomping down just enough to get our attention. The familiar noise that sends chills down my spine, a reaction developed when I found him happily chewing my new cell phone when he was still a puppy. But when and how did he get the remote control without our noticing?

For those of you not familiar with Moe, he is a large dog by most standards, currently, weighing 100 lbs. When he sleeps in his favorite spot, the tub in the master ensuite, he fills it. It seems that it would be impossible for such a large dog to enter a room unnoticed, but we are often caught off guard, left sputtering “I didn’t know Moe was in here.” So the big question we have is how did he get so stealthy?

The examples go on and on. When Moe was a puppy a trail of chewed shoes strewn about the house left us with the question how and when did he get them? Now that he is older we know he is just taunting us with his superpower when we find shoes left abandoned unchewed in the living room and a trail of hand towels stolen from the bathrooms leading the way down the hall. But we get the last laugh when we find him blocked in a room staring at us from the wrong side of the gate used to keep him out of the room.

It is a fact. Moe has a developed stealth capabilities.  He best keep his superpower a secret. We don’t want him dog-knapped by a foreign government.

Fear

Grief has limits, whereas apprehension has none. For we grieve only for what we know has happened, but we fear all that possibly may happen.

Pliny the Elder

Whether we like to admit it or not, we are often ruled by our fears. Like the vast majority of people, I suffer from some phobias. Well to be honest, I may suffer from more than a few. There are extensive lists of “common” phobias. Below are just a few. Are you brave enough to claim your phobia?

Arachnophobia – The fear of spiders (That’s me)

Ophidiophobia – The fear of snakes (Me again)

Acrophobia – The fear of heights

Agoraphobia – The fear of open or crowded spaces

Cynophobia – The fear of dogs (Definitely not me)

Astraphobia – The fear of thunder and lightning

Claustrophobia – The fear of small spaces (Me once more)

Mysophobia – The fear of germs

Aerophobia – The fear of flying (Okay this is getting embarrassing, me again)

Trypophobia – The fear of holes

 

I think that dogs have phobias as well. Three of our four dogs have displayed Astraphobia, which should be expanded to include fireworks. A thunderstorm at night would find us surrounded by a whimpering and quivering mass of dogs, which included Moe, Tasha and Willa. Our king size bed became very small when it contained our three fearful dogs. Only Taz seemed immune. He would sleep peacefully through all the commotion swirling around him. New Year’s Eve and the 4^th of July are nights of terror in our household.

With their keen sense of hearing this seems rational. Unfortunately, some of other phobias do not seem so rational.

Our Collie Tasha developed a “fear”of things in the sky. A plane flying over head

A Newly Groomed 12 yr old Tasha

would send her into a fit of frenzied barking. A bright full moon had the same effect. We learned to tolerate this eccentric behavior. It was the episode of prolong barking, and standing fixated, staring at a flag waving in the wind, in a roadside Rest Station no less, that broke the limits of rational behavior. Forever more Tasha was the butt of our jokes. We became convinced that she felt her purpose in life was to warn us of the impending alien invasion that would suddenly appear in the sky. Alas, she did not live to see her fear come true. Who knows it may still happen and when it does my husband and I owe her a big apology.

The Fifth Day After Christmas

It is the fifth day after Christmas and as in the story old

not a creature is stirring, not even Bathtub Moe.

The place where the tree once stood is empty and bare,

all the tinsel and needles swept up with great care.

 

The Christmas turkey, ham and all the stuffing has been eaten,

although I swore to resist, my resolve was severely beaten.

I indulged in eggnog, cookies, candy and cake,

sadly I ate until no more my poor stomach could take.

Ever vigilant, our dog Willa waited for more,

she waited and waited for food to hit the floor.

Not a crumb nor scrap was wasted, not even a morsel,

why then do I feel so guilty and ever remorseful?

 

It went by in a blur, my memories are foggy.

The guests have all left, all that remain are my doggies.

My good fellows I wish you a Happy New Year,

may it be filled with cold noses and tails that wag with good cheer.

How Fluent in Dog Are You?

No, really, I don’t think your crazy.

It has been said many times, often by me, that having a dog is like having a young child. One of the similarities is that often I simply do not understand what my dogs are trying to tell me. With a dog, just as with a nonverbal child, you are forced to interpret body language, often resorting to guess work or the simple process of elimination.

After having dogs for more than 14 years, I was confident that I was pretty good at interpreting my dogs body language. As such, I approached an online survey “How fluent are you in dog-speak?” presented by Mother Nature Network, with confidence. “I had this.” Living with four dogs had made me fluent. The resulting test score, 11 out of 19, was humbling. I often missed subtle clues such a softness in the eyes and facial features and the position of the head (held back or forward). Clues that would help me determine if a strange dog was fearful of me or my dogs.

If I am to take my dogs out into the world to interact with other dogs and other people I need to hear what dogs are trying to tell me. I need to become more fluent in dog-speak.

How about you? Do you dare put your dog-speak abilities to a test? If so click here.

A Symbol of Strength – Monday’s Finish the Story for Nov. 2nd

The  Mondays Finish the Story challenge is to write a short story (100-150) words that contain the first line provided and is related to the photo provided. Here’s mine for this week. Enjoy!

“She lived a life that some would describe as being on edge.” Unexpected noise and sudden movements made her jump. Her posture was slumped, her nails chewed until they bled.

She could not forget the night he had slipped through the unlocked window. Nothing could replace the things, both physical and emotional, that he had ripped from her. Testifying in court was to bring her closure and free her from her constant fears.

Avoiding eye contact with the monster that sat confidently across from her, she concentrated instead on the small coin clutched in her hand. The childhood gift from her Arapaho grandmother was a symbol of strength. As she testified she rubbed its worn surface.

Not Guilty.

The words reverberated through her. She stumbled out of the courthouse to where Max was waiting. The meticulously trained Shepherd, her constant companion, was the reason she was able to survive the terrifying nights and navigate what she knew was a very dangerous world.

Thanks Barbara for another great picture and starting line.

 

The Vulture – Monday’s Finish the Story for Oct 26th

The  Mondays Finish the Story challenge is to write a short story (100-150) words that contain the first line provided and is related to the photo provided. Here’s mine for this week. Enjoy!

“I watched the vulture looking at me hungrily as I lay on the ground bleeding and injured.”

“What a fine kettle of fish you’ve got your self into,” I thought. Why must I always run the fastest and farthest? It always ends in disaster. No wonder my owners calls me Rufus the Dufus.

I think about Trevor. I’ve known the 10 year old all his life. I followed him, ready to break his fall, while he learned to walk. I was his one true companion when the boys in the neighborhood were mean. I would make him laugh, when I knew he was sad. What would happen to Trevor now? I wish I was looking up into his eyes not this vulture’s. Overcome by sadness I let out long low wail.

“I hear him, I hear him,” an excited Trevor screamed. Climbing over rocks, he spotted the crumpled black and white form.  With a screech of happiness he bounded towards his best friend.

Thank you Barbara for hosting this challenge. If you would like to take part, click the link above!

Into the Dark Forest – Monday’s Finish the Story Flash Fiction for Oct 19th

The  Mondays Finish the Story challenge is to write a short story (100-150) words that contain the first line provided and is related to the photo provided. Here’s mine for this week. Enjoy!

“Not knowing what to expect, he made his way into the dark of the forest.”

Strange events had been plaguing him. One morning he had found his chickens roaming freely; the door to their coop hung askew. At night his cow and donkey were restless, lowing mournfully. Betsy, his loyal mutt, refused to sleep in her usual place by his bed, instead she stood guard emitting guttural growls.

A few steps into the forest he heard movement in the bushes behind him. Cursing himself for not bringing his gun, he turned to face his foe and locked eyes with a quivering black dog, one paw held aloft, bent unnaturally. He watched as it shuddered into an unconscious heap. Scooping the dog up into his arms, he shook his head at how light it was; how he could feel it’s ribs. Cradling the dog gently, he smiled with the knowledge that his menagerie of lost souls had just increased by one.

On the Road to a Full Recovery

How Do We Mend Moe’s Broken Heart?

Here’s what lead to the heartbreak.

We live in the Phoenix area, however, when the universe is kind and the stars align we are able to leave the blazing heat of Arizona and spend our summers at our place in Central Alberta. The respite for this year has ended and we are now back in our home in Arizona.

It had been a great three months up north. Long summer days ended with the sun slowly sliding into the horizon around 11:00 pm. With the exception of a few days the daily highs settled nicely at 75-80° F, while the cool nighttime temperatures of 50-65° F encouraged deep restful sleep for all of us.

Our rural property consists of five nicely tree acres. For the first time we had our dogs, Moe and Willa, on radio collars which allowed them to roam freely over about one acre of land surrounding the house. Each morning was like Christmas morning, Moe and Willa would bound out the dog door eager to discover who had visited the house during the night. Each would spend hours nose to the ground tracking smells. When the explorations had been complete Willa would come back in to sleep for a while. Moe would settle under some bushes or on one of the decks to sleep. Moe also discovered some pesky squirrels that would torment him from the bows of the spruce trees; always out of reach but never out of sight. Occasionally deer, coyotes and rabbits would emerge from the forest and Moe would have to vigilantly bark to ward off each intruder.

Sadly our vacation came to end. Back in Arizona we have been assaulted by daily highs of 90-100°. Much too warm for the Big Brown Dog and his thick fur coat. A quick inspection of the small yard turned up no evidence of deer, coyotes, rabbits or pesky squirrels. The gecko’s darting across the fence haven’t interested Moe at all. Moe has sought refuge in the bathtub in the master ensuite or the dark of the small walk-in closet. We have tried to entice him with his treat dispensing toys. All attempts have been met with indifference. He is eating and drinking  fine and otherwise appears healthy, so we are convinced he is depressed. He misses his yard and the animals from our northern home.

We are going to set up a sandbox in the yard where we can hide toys and rawhide chews. Hopefully this will spark some life back into our listless Moe. Do you have any other ideas of what we could set up in our small desert yard to entertain Moe?

Castle Island – Monday’s Finish the Story Flash Fiction for Oct 5th

The  Mondays Finish the Story challenge is to write a short story (100-150) words that contain the first line provided and is related to the photo provided. Here’s mine for this week. Enjoy!

“Few knew about the castle hidden inside the island.”

King led me down the narrow cavern to his court hidden in the bowels of the craggy island. Spears of sunlight shot through the rock bathing the worn surface of his throne in golden tones. From this noble perch the King ruled his land with swift justice. A piercing bark would banish all wayward creatures. Only a favored few were allowed to grace his presence.

A small noise from some rocks shattered the quiet. King sprang into action. His powerful legs pumped. The mouse found a small hole and escaped. With a whine, King pawed at the opening. I soaked in his excitement, joy and frustration. Soon our weekly visit would come to an end. Visiting this island gave my English Springer Spaniel a chance to escape the confines of our apartment. A chance to be a dog and to be a true King for a day.

The Day Taz Saved a Deer

The winter had been a series of bitter cold days broken only by days filled with falling snow. Even though it was near the end of March, that Sunday afternoon saw a temperature rising only as far as -20°C (-4°F). The sun was bright and cast long shadows across the yard, which was still buried beneath three feet of snow. The warmth of spring time seemed a long time away.

Despite the cold Taz was out in the small enclosure at the back of our house. There he made his rounds, inspecting every inch of the fenced perimeter. We were happy and content to stay in the warm embrace of our home. Suddenly the quiet of the afternoon was broken by Taz barking frantically. The barking only registering in my mind after if continued on for several minutes. “Any bird or squirrel that had caused such ruckus should have fled long ago,” I thought. The urgency of the barking required some investigation on my part.

Approaching the patio door, I observed Taz standing in the middle of the enclosure barking at something at the edge of the forest. I squinted through the dazzling sunlight, which bounced off the snow, trying to see what had disturbed Taz and our peaceful afternoon. I recoiled in shock once my mind had deciphered the movement in the trees. There stood a lone deer, emancipated from the long cold winter. Surrounding the deer in a circle was four or five coyotes. I watched horrified as one coyote would lunge at the deer, who would turn quickly to avoid the attack. As the deer turned another coyote would lunge. Strangely this dance of death was being performed in total silence. The only noise was from Taz, who was still barking.

I love animals, all animals. I know that mother nature is often cruel and I have no disillusions about the coyotes that wander the land around the house. They are carnivores, they hunt other animals. Usually their prey are the smaller animals. The rabbits, squirrels and mice that shared our land. I also know that weakened by a long cold winter, with deep snow that meant food was scarce, deer would often fall prey to a pack of coyotes.

All this knowledge flashed through my mind in an instant. “That may all be true, but not in my backyard and not within my sight” I resolved. I frantically called my husband and implored that we had to stop this. I could not let the coyotes kill this deer. My limited knowledge of coyotes lead me to believe that you could scare them away by making loud noises. My husband agreed that he would go out and try to chase off the coyotes, but I would have to find a way to make as much noise as humanly possible, to help him. As I dug through cupboards to find something to use to make the loudest racked, he quickly dressed in the required boots, parka, and gloves necessary to venture out into the cold. Armed with two large pots, I went into the backyard; armed with a shovel, my husband approached the coyotes. Things had deteriorated in the few minutes we took to get ready. Now one coyote hung by its jaws from the neck of the deer, trying to bring it down. The deer swung around attempting to dislodge the coyote. I banged my pots as hard as I could as my husband approached the coyotes bellowing loudly.

It worked.

The coyotes melted back into the woods. The deer sank to its knees, then after a moment seemed to recover and it too disappeared into the woods. Miraculously there was no blood on the snow. We silently prayed that meant the deer was alright.

I battle sometimes with our decision to interfere with nature. I think about the pack of coyotes who too were struggling to find food and to survive the harsh winter. However, more often than not, I think we, Taz, my husband and I, did the right thing in saving that deer.