Anti-Clock

Figured I'd babble about Chelsea the dog, since I have not written here for awhile...She is a little over 3 years old, a terrier dachshund mix, and the first little dog ( Beth's ) I've ever been associated with...My last dog was a German Shepherd, and although the shepherd was a wonderful dog, intelligent and dignified, I am slowly believing that this little creature is the best animal I have ever known. There is more willingness to please in the small breeds I think-or a self awareness of the limitations of their small size- so she is obedient now that she knows what is expected of her, and shows admirable intelligence. I have not trained her to sit and other trivial commands-which are unimportant to me- yet I can open the door to let her into the yard, then tell her to wait while I go back in for several minutes, and she will be lying calmly near the door when I get back. Her patience is humbling as she stares at us while we fumble for the keys or tie our shoes or do all the other things humans do to delay themselves, then we take her to the woods where she runs full speed for 12 miles or more, never getting further away than what a few minutes and whistles can bring back. All the while she chases chip monks and squirrels and deer-which she never catches-hopping like a doe and clamoring over logs that challenge even me. At night she sleeps affectionately beneath the covers at our feet. Unlike many dogs she has no hesitancy to look us in the eye, rather seems to possess genuine cognitive understanding of certain things-at least to the extent that dogs can figure things out. And of course she is just cute, and charms everyone she meets, with the exception of tall men with baseball caps-a possible negative memory she retains from her puppy hood. She ended up in a rescue shelter where Beth adpoted her at around five months old. So... Chelsea...great little dog who is curled up on the bed beside me as I type...patiently waiting for me to get my arse back out side where she can run free!
POSTSCRIPT 12/26/09: She stepped into a leg hold trap about a week ago as we were walking along some railroad tracks. It had been set to capture a fox I suspect, and caused to her to scream in pain and shock and anger for the minute it took me to reach her and maneuver around her agitation in order to step on the release tabs at each end. Although I feared that it had cut right through and shattered her bone, by the time I had carried her the mile back to the car she was able to put some weight on that paw. Fortunately a quick check over by a vet-who told me that pets in traps were a common occurrence around here- confirmed that there were no serious injuries, so she was running full speed three days later. As for trapping, I see no real justification these days, although proponents will claim that it keeps populations in check. I suspect that habitat loss and highways have long replaced deliberate human culling as a necessity, and there are many alternatives to animal fur for clothing. Probably I would be less resistant to the practice if years ago I had not witnessed the chewed off leg of a raccoon which had maimed itself in order to escape a leg hold trap. Generally the trapped animals struggle awhile then settle down until the trapper-who is supposed to check his or her traps every 24 hours- arrives and shoots them in the head. I am no Disney idealist regarding nature, but the few dollars received for the fur makes what is a somewhat barbaric and inhumane activity questionable. I suppose that there are live catch traps available, but I doubt many trappers use them, and it still requires killing a wild animal for no good reason.