THE OTHER END OF THE LEASH

With apologies for the change in topics, I just have to respond to a comment on my last post, and to the hundreds of comments I’ve heard over the last 20 + years, about the guilt associated with putting a dog down. It is always wrenching, heart-breaking to euthanize a beloved dog, but taking a dog’s life away for a behavioral problem can be especially hard. I can’t take away the pain, no matter what the reason for the death, but here are a few things that I have found that have helped me and some of my clients.

First, for anyone who has had to euthanize a dog, I hope it helps to know that devoted owners are often wracked with guilt, no matter why the dog died. For example, I euthanized Cool Hand Luke after a long battle with kidney failure. By the time he died (he was close to death when we helped him along), I had worked extensively with five veterinarians, including specialists at the UW Vet School. He received the best that money can buy of western medicine, homeopathic medicine and chinese medicine. I cooked him a special diet every day and monitored every thing that went into his mouth. I’d go on, but you get the idea: I moved  heaven and earth for Luke, and still. . . I was wracked with guilt for a good year after his death.

Surely I had missed something? Surely there was just one more thing I could have done? One of my vets told me that Luke had an inflammation somewhere, but she couldn’t say where or what it was. I obsessed over trying to find it, and felt a crush of failure when nothing we did turned around his failing kidneys. I was consumed by the idea that IF I JUST WORK HARD ENOUGH, I could “fix” things and save Luke.

After he died, devastated by his untimely death (he was 12,  his daughter is now 15 3/4), I couldn’t get it out of my mind that somehow I should have done a better job of trying to save him.  In the cold light of day, this was, frankly, absurd. Luke had 5 of some of the best vets in the country and if they couldn’t save him, how in heaven’s name was I supposed to?

But as he always had, Luke left me with a gift. It took awhile, but I slowly began to notice how EVERYONE I talked to who loved their dog, like we all love ours, was guilty about something related to the dog’s death. It didn’t matter how or why they died: hundreds of owners, from prof’l trainers and behaviorists to the dog loving public, found something to feel guilty about. “I should have seen the symptoms sooner,” or “How could I have not known that the lock on the door was faulty and allowed my dog to run out the door?” or “Surely I could somehow have prevented the bite if I just hadn’t……”

Here’s what Luke taught me, along with the wise comments of a psychologist friend: It is easier to believe that we are always responsible (”if only I had done/not done this one thing….”) than it is to accept this painful truth: We are not in control of the world. Stuff happens. Bad stuff. As brilliant and responsible and hard working and control-freaky that we are, sometimes, bad stuff just happens. Good people die when they shouldn’t. Gorgeous dogs brimming with health, except for that tumor or those crappy kidneys, die long before their time. Dogs who are otherwise healthy but are a severe health risk to others end up being put down. It’s not fair, it’s not right, and it hurts like hell. But please please, if you’ve moved heaven and earth to save a dog and haven’t been able to… just remember:  Stuff happens. We can’t control everything. (Difficult words to dog trainers I know. . . Aren’t we all control freaks to some extent?) You didn’t fail. You tried as hard as you could. It’s okay.

To all of us: Try folding up that guilt and pain like a pile of dirty, ripped clothing, and throwing it away. Remember: Much of what we love about dogs is that they live in the present and accept what happens. That’s our job, to accept what happens sometimes, even though it’s the hardest job of all.

Secondly, there’s one more thing I want to remind everyone who has lost a beloved dog, no matter what the reason or whether there was guilt attached or not: Neurobiologist Jaak Panskepp tells us that “social distress,” or what we’d call grieving, is registered in a primitive part of the brain that is also associated with the perception of pain. I learned about this while I was writing For the Love of a Dog, and it blew me away when I discovered it. Ah Ha, I thought; no wonder we talk about the “pain of loss” and “healing” after grieving. And don’t we respond to another’s loss as if they’d been physically hurt? We take people flowers and food when they are grieving just as we do after they have a major operation.  I remember feeling physical pain when Luke died, when Tulip died, when Pippy Tay died, just as I did when my mother died. I told someone it felt like I’d had abdominal surgery. Turns out that’s exactly what my brain thought too.

And so, remember that when you lose a dog, or if you are still grieving for one you lost in the past, your body thinks you’ve been injured. It needs you to take care of yourself. It needs rest and comfort and flowers and sweet soup and gentle kisses and hugs.

As I write this, I think of my Lassie girl. Her 16th birthday party is planned for a few months from now. She’s doing amazingly well, but good grief, she’s old. Really old. It hurts to think of the future… I think tonight I’d better make some chicken soup and put it in the freezer.

Meanwhile, back at the farm: Lassie played tug with Willie this morning, oblivious as she is to calendars or human concerns about the future or the past. Willie got lots of sheep work this weekend, is a bit gimpy on his left shoulder but lordy we had fun. It’s fall in full force here: leaves turning cranberry, frost on the grass in the morning, lots of wild apples falling from the trees. Here are 2 photos from this morning, while feeding apples to some of the sheep.

Here’s Barbie impatiently waiting for me to drop apples into the feeder:

This isn’t the greatest photo in the world, but I wanted to show Martha chomping on an apple. Sheep LOVE apples, and right now Martha, Barbie and the lambs are all eating grass (from the front yard, best grass on the farm, courtesy of Will who can reliably keep them herded away from the road), a corn/oat mix, high quality alfalfa hay and lots of apples. Yum.

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One of your fellow blog readers alerted us to a study recently published in Behavioral Processes titled “Disambiguating the “guilty look” by Alexandra Horowitz. It is a creative and well-designed study that supports what trainers, ethologists and behaviorists have been saying for years: “No, your dog isn’t expressing guilt when he cowers at the door when you come home to find he’s peed on the carpet. Rather,  he’s waving a white flag, perhaps to inhibit you from punishing him any further, and is responding to YOUR behavior rather than expressing guilt at his earlier actions.”

Here’s a summary of the study: 14 dogs and owners participated, and only dogs who were able to successfully perform a sit/stay were included.  The owner was instructed to place the dog on a sit/stay, and then show the dog a treat and use whatever cue they would normally employ to forbid the dog to take the treat (I’m assuming “no” or “leave it”). The treat was placed at the same distance from the dog in each trial, and then the owner left the room.

When the owner returned the treat was always off the floor.  The experimenter either picked up the treat and gave it to the dog, or picked it up and kept it herself. When the owner returned, he or she was informed by the experimenter if the dog had been obedient or not (not necessarily accurately). If the owner was told the dog had been obedient, the owner was been told to greet the dog on their return. However, if they were told that the dog had been disobedient, they were told to scold the dog in whatever way they would normally do. (Note that one potential pair was eliminated because the owner refused to scold the dog. Interesting. What would you have done? I think I would have participated to support the research, but kept my ’scolding’ to the disappointed voice I use sometimes: “Oh Mr. Will…. what did you do?” It’s quiet and low key and yet Willie’s ears go down and his face changes in a way I want to call “concerned.” Needless to say, I never do it “after the fact,” but I probably would have in this case because of my interest in the results of the study. I don’t think it would have set Willie back in any substantial way, but if I thought it would I wouldn’t have considered it.)

In the study, each dog/owner pair was given 9 trials, two control trials in which the dog was allowed to eat the treat, and others in which the owner was correctly informed or mis-informed about whether the dog ate the treat or not.

The dog’s behavior was video taped and later analyzed, categorizing 9 behaviors often used to describe a “guilty look” by owners: head, ears or tail down, raising a paw, moving away from the owner, licking, rolling onto the back, etc.

The results are not only what you’d expect, but even more so: Not only was there no correlation between behavior usually categorized as “guilty” and the dogs who actually did eat the treat, it was found that the highest rates of these behaviors was found from dogs who had NOT eaten the treat and who WERE scolded by their owners. Trials in which the dogs did eat the treat (even though handed to them by the experimenter) and who were scolded showed fewer deferential (my word) behaviors than if they had not gotten the treat.

You can’t get much better evidence for what we’ve all been saying for years: “No, your dog DOESN’T “know  better! He’s just afraid of what you’re about to do!” It’s true that there is a potential glitch in the methodology, but I think the author handles it well in the discussion.  Since the dogs who got the treat were given the treat by a human, even after being told to leave it alone, it is hard to know if the dog itself considered its behavior as being disobedient… the author’s paper after all is about being careful about making attributions (or mis-attributions) and this is a potential problem. How do we know that the dogs perceived themselves as being “disobedient?” The author did do subsequent tests to follow up on this potential problem and I think it does indeed support the original results.

Speaking though, of mis-attributions, I do have a small bone to pick (a treat to take away?) from some of the statements in the paper. Although I have been on record in speeches, books and articles that of all the emotions, guilt is the one least likely to be experienced equivalently by humans and dogs, I am included in a list of “ethologists, animal behaviorists and other scientists” who describe a “dog ostensibly guilty of a transgression…“. My interpretation of her words was that I and others were indeed arguing that “head down, ears down” is the posture of a guilty dog. That, it turns out, is not what she meant: she meant that we had written that pet owners use these postures to describe what they believe is a guilty posture. She clarified that in a gracious email to me after I wrote her about it.

I suspect my interpretation of what she wrote was in part based on something she said earlier in the Introduction: “And yet, ethologists, animal husbandrists, pet owners and others .. frequently use emotional terms to describe or explain an animal’s behavior.”

She is certainly right on target that I, and others are comfortable talking about expressions of emotions in animals. However, I’m not clear why she mentions “ethologists, animal husbandrists and pet owners” etc, but not psychologists, neurobiologists, etc. etc, including those who study emotions in animals and have for many years.

What I think is important here is to help people understand what of their emotional life is shared with dogs and what is not. Pure primal terror or rage, for example, is a profoundly primitive experience, and yet much of our own emotions are overlain with a cognitive component that dogs probably don’t share…  Surely, as I write in For the Love of a Dog, the shared emotional life of people and dogs is a glass half empty and a glass half full.  We need to take this debate beyond the two polarized perspectives of “You can’t talk about emotions in animals” and “I know my dog is guilty! Just look at him!” That’s what I tried to do in the book (and learned a ton myself by writing it.) This study is a good step toward helping professionals convince the general public that people are much too quick to attribute guilt to their dog. My own observations are that dog owners are quick to attribute the emotions least likely to experienced in similar ways by people and dogs, and miss the ones most likely to be shared (like fear). More on this topic, it’s a big one, but I’m curious what you’ve found: what emotions are you, your neighbors or your clients most likely to ascribe to their dogs (and why!)

Meanwhile, back at the farm: Willie has a broken tooth and goes in tomorrow for a general cleaning and a close examination of the tooth. (Large premolar on the top jaw.. of course the largest tooth in the mouth with three roots. jeeeez.) Then we’ll know if he needs a root canal, an extraction or just (oh please!) just a cap on it. Please do whatever you can to help me remember to NOT give Willie his stuffed Kong tomorrow morning. It is such a habit with me I am in angst already that I’ll forget!  Notes will be all over the house!

Here’s a photo of Lassie and her chiropractor, Dr. Mark McCaan. I love the comparison of facial expressions! Anyone want to venture what emotion Lassie’s face expresses?

Your comments have been so interesting about the ‘fair’ and/or “jealous” issue that I thought I’d respond in another post for everyone to read. I’ve included some of your comments, because they add so richly to the discussion.

First off, I agree with many who’ve commented that we need to be very cautious about making interpretations from the results of this study. The bottom line is that while the dog’s responsiveness degraded, as expected, if the food reinforcement was taken away, it degraded faster if another dog was observed receiving reinforcement. That was the “inequality aversion” that the authors mentioned (and yes, I believe it was the media that added “fairness” and “jealousy.” The dogs also could receive one of two rewards, brown bread or sausage. While a similar primate study found that the subjects responded differently to a ‘high quality’ versus a ‘low quality’ reward, the dogs are described as not caring. I’m especially cautious of interpreting this result as a meaningful species difference: who knows if the difference between what the primates got was the same as the difference between brown bread and sausage? (Have you ever had real European brown bread? I’d fly across the Atlantic just to get some if I could afford it… But perhaps it is a species difference in that dogs are scavengers and many of them love just about any kind of food. One of my BC’s, Pippy Tay, loved the sunflower seed shells under the bird feeder. The shells. LOVED them. Go figure.)

Here are some of the many interesting comments re the ‘fairness’ versus ‘jealousy’ issue:

Dee Says:

. . . in my American mind jealousy has to do with a perceived loss of interaction or affection, while fairness has to do with the inequality of reward. In this instance, and at least at first glance, the dogs seem to be refusing to work because of the inequality in earnings/rewards rather than protesting that the other dog was receiving more attention, but that’s where this study becomes very tricky…

It seemed like this was a good time to look up the dictionary definitions: Here is the result from Word Dictionary (my beloved huge dictionary is at home, I’ll look it up there over the holidays):

JEALOUS “feeling bitter and unhappy because of another’s advantages, possessions or luck.

FAIRNESS not exhibiting any bias, and therefore reasonable or impartial.

This fits a bit with what I had been thinking; Here’s my take on it: I think of jealousy as a relatively simple kind of emotion. As I said in the book For the Love of a Dog, although some scientists think jealousy is an emotion that requires “Theory of Mind,” or being able to think about the thoughts of others, I’ve always thought that it was relatively simple version of the core emotion of anger: “You’ve got it, I want it, I don’t have it, I’m not happy about that at all.” It seems reasonable to label that as a kind of frustration, which is a kind of anger, don’t you think? Note what Jennifer said in relation to that:

Jennifer Says:
My inclination is to say that the study may have been measuring something else other than the dog’s attitude in response to the other dog being rewarded…….Frustration is a far less sophisticated emotion than either jealousy or fairness (which I believe are fundamentally different from one another) and, thus, in the spirit of assuming the least complicated explanation as necessary to explain an event, I’m going to side with frustration.

So interesting… is jealousy more complicated than frustration? I’m not sure. I completely agree that ‘fairness’ is another issue. My interpretation of fairness leans toward the concept of social justice. Of course, we use the term in at least two ways: “That’s not FAIR!” a child might say if his brother or sister gets something bigger or better. Surely that’s the simplest version of ‘fairness’ but it’s hard to separate it out from jealousy or frustration. But what if one child (or dog) watched two OTHER children or dogs getting, or not getting an expected reward. Then what would they think? It seems to me that the most sophisticated version of fairness would relate not so much to how one is treated oneself, but how others are treated, according to some social code. Does that make sense? (That’s the study I’d love to see… how would a dog respond if he saw another being treated inequitably?!)

There are lots of other interesting comments, don’t hesitate to read them all in the earlier post, and add yours here or on the first one. Meanwhile, I’m not sure if Lassie’s chinese medicine veterinarian will make it out in yet ANOTHER snow storm. At least it is no longer 10 below and windy. Poor Lassie urinated in the house yesterday morning. I took her outside just to pee and she looked at me and ran to the door. It was brutal, truly. It’s been quite a winter already, and it’s not even the end of December yet. (Didn’t winter just start the day before yesterday? Geeez.)

Here’s a photo from last winter, (and we have MORE snow so far than we did at the same time last winter!)

But here’s some things to warm your heart: first, Jim’s famous Christmas cookies, that we decorated in yet another snow storm last week:

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And least but not least, have you seen this? A friend sent me the url, and I can’t imagine a better holiday present to dog lovers. Here’s hoping that you and yours are able to forget about life’s troubles for a few days, and envelop yourself in love, care and gratitude. HAPPY HOLIDAYS FROM TRISHA, LASSIE AND WILL.

AMAZING HOLIDAY DOG VIDEO!

I’m off in an hour to Virginia to do the For the Love of a Dog seminar on Saturday (about emotions in people and dogs) and a half day version of Both Ends of the Leash (focusing on how OUR behavior influences that of our dogs). Both seminars are fulfilling to do, I love doing them both. Spending a day on emotions—the basis of our bond with dogs if you think about it—is always wonderful for me. Every time I give the seminar I learn something new, and every time I end the day overwhelmed at the miracle of our relationship with a entirely different species. Think about it: two very different species with individuals who will risk their life for a member of the other species. That’s amazing, truly amazing.

On Sunday we’ll become field ethologists observing the always interesting behavior of people and dogs, focusing on communication. What signal does your dog respond to when you say “sit?” It well might not be the word… do you move your head? move your arms? Does your dog even notice the word, if he’s busy watching your body? And when you do talk, how do you use your voice? Can you use it like a singer, and make your voice model what you want your dog to do or feel? We practice in the seminar (okay, it gets a little noisy when everyone practices at once!) and leave even more conscious of how our voice and our movements are always ‘talking’ to our dogs, whether we know it or not!

I’ve gotta run, but here’s the words that end Saturday’s seminar, after a discussion of why we love dogs so much. It’s a testament to my soul mate dog, Luke, taken from the end of the book, For the Love of a Dog.

There’s a stone I had made for Luke at the top of the hill road, where the pasture opens wide and the setting sun highlights the words carved into its face. “That’ll do, Luke, that’ll do.” The words are said to working dogs all over the world when the chores are done and the flock is settled: “That’ll do dog, come home now, your work is done.” Luke’s work is done too. He took my heart and ran with it, and he’s running still, fast and strong, a piece of my heart bound up with his, forever.

Here’s me and Lassie up the hill, in a beautiful photo taken by Amanda Jones.

I’m getting pretty bleary this mid-afternoon, having stayed up late last night, like much of the country, watching the election returns. As the evening progressed, I found myself on the floor, with Lassie on one side, and Willie on the other. Both of my paws were busy, stroking and petting my dogs non-stop, in my attempt to maintain a modicum of calm. No matter how you feel about the outcome, it was a historic night for our country, and like many others, I was wired, and didn’t go to sleep until well into the morning hours.

As I lay beside Willie’s warm body and stroked Lassie’s buttery soft fur last night, I thought about how wonderful it is that the dogs and I had never had heated, or even heart-felt discussions about politics, the election. . . or anything else for that matter. What a gift that those of us who have dogs can have such close social relationships with sentient beings, and yet base that relationship on something other than words. Not that I don’t enjoy a great discussion, I do. But there’s a cost to speech, as I said in Dog is My Co-Pilot, quoted in For the Love of a Dog:

“Words may be wonderful things, but they carry weight with them, and there’s a great lightness of being when they are discarded . . . Some of my happiest moments are when Luke and I sit silently together, overlooking the green, rolling hills of Southern Wisconsin. Our lack of language doesn’t get in the way, but creates an opening for something else, something deep and pure and good. We dog lovers share a kind of Zen-like communion with our dogs, uncluttered by nouns and adverbs and dangling participles. This connection speaks to a part of us that needs to be nurtured and listened to, but that is so often drowned out in the cacophony of speech. Dogs remind us that we are being heard, without the additional weight of words. What a gift. No wonder we love them so much.”

I hope your dogs (and cats and horses and parrots) are providing you with warmth, nurturance and provide a welcome counterpoint to the amazing complexities of human life and language. How lucky we are to have them! Here’s a puppy, thanks to photographer Patricia Thomas, who looks more than ready to be someone’s special friend!

I just arrived in Atlanta, and am about to settle in, go over my seminar for tomorrow and then watch some foolish movie that does nothing but entertain me and put me to sleep.

But I wanted to write about a magazine that I just can’t get enough of–Scientific American Mind. If you are interested in behavior, both your own and your dog’s, this is a fascinating magazine. It’s true it helps to be fascinated by behavior and the brain (I guess that’s obvious), and that to some it will be far afield from canine behavior.. but that’s what I love about behavior… it is such an eclectic field.

Here are just some of the pages I have marked for further review (and future blogs, articles or book sections….) in the Oct/Nov issue:

p 10: Researchers at the Zhejiang University in China found that honeybees, who have been famous for years because of the ‘waggle dance’ they do in the hive to direct other workers to food, actually learn much of the dance. Many have assumed that ‘bee brains’ were only capable of dancing because of innate ‘hard wiring,’ but bees with different dances from different countries (almost like an accent or a dialect of the same language) were able to learn the other’s dance when they were raised together. How does this relate to your dog? Well… the issue of what is innate and what is learned is still controversial, and how interesting it is to learn that bees with a tiny swelling of neural tissue that can barely be called a brain, can still learn…

p 11: Magpies look at predators with thier left eye (thus stimulating the right side of their brain) and at something interesting but not dangerous with their right eye (stimulating the left side of their brain.) That is especially interesting to dog owners (honest)… did you see the research that found that dog’s wag their tail more to one direction to friends (right) and in another direction (left) to an aggressive dog? I’ll write more about that research soon, but it suggests that many animals have lateralized brains, not just humans with expanded cognition (which some have argued.) I’d love to see more research looking at lateralization and canine behavior. (Did you know that most dogs are ‘left pawed’ but ones who are ambidexterous (holding down a Kong with either paw) have a higher incidence of separation anxiety, just as people who are ambidexterous have a higher incidence of generalized anxiety?)

p15: People who can’t seem to heal from the loss of a loved one (and of course, I’m thinking dog here) react more strongly to reminders of the loved one in the area of their brain called the nucleus accumbens. It’s the area associated with reward, and the anticipation of something good. They don’t understand yet exactly what is going on, but it is interesting that they’ve found a different physiological reaction in people who are still grieving than people who have healed from a loss.

There is also a great article about memory and its fluidity (we pretty much make it up as we go) and the power of the unconscious.. very relevant when people start arguing that only humans are conscious (now there’s a can of worms!)

And oh yes, there’s more. There’s an ad for a new book of conversations bewteeen the Dalai Lama and Paul Ekman. Ekman is the psychologist who did so much work on the facial expression of emotion in people all over the world and was gracious enough to let me use some of his photographs in For the Love of a Dog. I can’t wait to get this book……it should be fascinating. The comparison of the expression of fear, anger and happiness on the faces of people and dogs is truly amazing…

Meanwhile, here’s a little fall from the farm, just to remind me of home while I”m working in my hotel room….

I was working on my new book, coming out from Dogwise in early November, and found a section that relates, I suspect, to the cancellation of my radio show, Calling All Pets. The book, coming out from Dogwise, (Tales of Two Species) is a collection of my columns from Bark magazine. One of them is titled “Pet Peeves.” In it I write about our country’s ambivalent feelings about our pets. On the one hand, many of us love them, treat them like family and can’t imagine life without them. They are as important to our well-being as is literature, music and art. (For some of us, I’d add food, water and oxygen.) And yet, look at how often we hear people say, demeaningly, that an animal is “just a pet.” Here’s an excerpt from the essay:

“Just a pet.” How many times have you heard someone say that? Perhaps it was a conformation breeder who observed, “This pup doesn’t have a good top line, so he should be sold as just a pet.” You’ve probably read the phrase in articles about how much we love our companion animals: “It is remarkable how much money the American public spends just on pets.” And companion animal owners use it—ask any veterinarian, who too often hears: “We just adore our little Cocker Spaniel, she’s the greatest joy of our lives, but we can’t afford to spay her because she’s just a pet.”

Part of the problem, I suspect, is the derivation of the word “pet.” It began as a reference to a spoiled, over-indulged child and only recently has been used to describe the dogs and the cats sharing our homes. “Spoiled and over-indulged” are not words designed to engender respect or importance, now are they? It seems that the American psyche is highly ambivalent about our companion animals… either acknowledging how much they add to our lives, or dismissing them as trivial things, something akin to children’s toys. Nice to have around, but not really important. I wrote about this at length in the afterward to For the Love of a Dog–trying to explain why those of us who love dogs so much are not neurotic or socially challenged, at least not any more than the rest of the country. One of my favorite books about the bond between people and dogs is Pack of Two, by the late (and amazing) writer, Carolyn Knapp. It is a beautiful, beautiful book, and if you haven’t read it, go get a copy right now. I deeply regret that she died, tragically, before she was able to grace us with more of her writings (and, selfishly, before I was able to meet her).

I am curious what others have found. Do you also wonder sometimes if the world sorts into two groups? Group one includes those whose love for animals informs each and every day of their lives (in this case I mean companion animals, but there’s much to say in later writings about the importance of our connection to wild animals and an understanding of their behavior). Group 2 includes people who can take them or leave them, being indifferent to pets at best and those who love them, or at worst demeaning the bond between people and animals as an example of social ineptitude. Of course, I’m oversimplifying, but I’m curious what others experience.. do you often feel like you have to justify your love for your dogs, cats, horses? (ferrets, cockatiels, rats, etc…)

Meanwhile, it’s a gorgeous fall day here. My digital camera broke this morning, or I’d show you more pictures of Will working the lamb flock. I am busting out of my britches with pride for him… he is blossoming every day into a wonderful working stock dog. This morning the biggest ram lamb (probably 100+ pounds) turned to face Will down, ducking his head and threatening Will with a charge. Will held his ground (they were face to face, about a foot between their eyes) and stayed cool (I was saying ‘Stea-a-a-a-a-a-dy’ in my lowest and most soothing of voices) and the lamb finally turned and went where Will told him to. A few months ago Will would have exploded at the lamb, not biting but charging forward. That was okay for a young dog; the dog has to win in situations like that (sheep are not stupid, they learn very fast if they can beat a dog) even if the process isn’t elegant. However, it’s much better to keep things calm and quiet. A year ago Will would’ve backed up and the ram lamb would’ve won unless I came in to help (which I would if necessary.) Will just recently turned two, and it is a beautiful thing to watch him grow up and learn to control his emotions, and take charge when he needs to.

But still, really, Wll’s primary value to me is as a companion dog. I guess that means, when it comes down to it, Will is ‘just a pet.‘ Like Lassie, he adds love and light and joy into my life every day. What a gift.

Here are some photos from the last few days. The first shows Willie moving the lambs a few days ago into the orchard pasture (from which they escaped, got in with the ewe flock and probably bred their mothers. sigh.)

This is Lassie digging in the grass (a favorite activity for her) behind part of a huge dead elm clump that had to come down. Cutting it up into firewood and making the rest into wood chips for the garden will take up most of this coming Sunday.

The last photo is of a Katydid.  (who I originally identified as a Snowy Tree Cricket until graciously corrected by a reader! Whoops….) As common as Field Crickets and Katydids are here in Wisconsin, Snowy Tree Crickets are also common, and can tell you the temperature (no kidding). Just count the number of their chirps in 13 seconds (okay, I’ll admit, you often have to record them and slow it down to count!) and add 40, and you’ve go the temp in F. This photo was from a long courtship between a male and a female, all on the side of the house.