Yes, we’ve moved! For the latest on Lila the Labrador, please click http://dogdownunder.com
However, when he heard me scream the other night, he came charging out of the house barefoot. Not the best choice given what was wrong. Very wrong. Our puppy had bailed up a metre-long snake. Phil insisted it was a red-bellied black snake, but when I later presented him with a photo lineup, he pointed confidently to an eastern brown snake and announced, “That’s the one!” Anyway, it doesn’t really matter which species because in Australia nearly all snakes are venomous (some more so than others).
The sight of our Labrador Lila in a standoff with a potentially lethal creature had taken my screams to a new pitch. Blood curdling they reverberated throughout the valley prompting neighbours to come running from all directions. One brave woman wielding a large stick. No one knew what to expect. Lila, on the other hand, appeared to be deaf. Mesmerized by the snake. With only a few inches between them. Every time I tried to grab her collar, the snake would rear up and strike out. We’d both recoil, but then Lila would go back for more before I could stop her. My screams had words attached, but it was hard to tell.
When Phil arrived on the scene, he shouted, “Get her some food!” hoping to break the spell by offering Lila what Labradors live for. I found myself shrieking, “Lila, would you like some dinner?!?” Perhaps the question was indecipherable because it clearly had no impact. That’s when Phil somehow managed to get hold of Lila without being bitten himself. But we still didn’t know whether or not the snake’s fangs had contacted Lila because puncture marks are virtually invisible under a dog’s fur. We wasted no time getting her to the nearest veterinary hospital.
While travelling there, she showed no signs of distress. No vomiting. No salivating (no more than usual). No trembling. And her pupils were not dilated. She seemed fine, but the vet did appropriate blood tests to make sure. Apparently, Lila had not been bitten. Or perhaps had received only a “dry bite” (snakes sometimes reserve their venom for prey rather than waste it on predators). At any rate, she took the whole episode in stride and enjoyed swapping notes with other patients in the vet’s waiting room.
As for me, I knew Lila had not learned her lesson. And I was worried sick about the prospect of another visitation. But two days later something truly wonderful happened. While out cycling, I spotted a dead snake! I seized the moment and brought it home to give Lila some avoidance training. I’d read that dead snakes could be used in this way…helping the dog make an association with the handler’s fear reaction. Maybe this snake wasn’t a perfect match, but I figured it was worth a shot…
[If you have received this post by email, please click “dog downunder” or “puppy discovers australia’s deadly wildlife” in order to view accompanying video in a web page.]
When a “code red” or “catastrophic” fire warning was recently issued to parts of Victoria, I knew Lila and I would be heading to the haven of a city office. The temperature was tipped to hit 43°C and drop only slightly at sunset, resulting in Melbourne’s hottest night on record. By the time I’d packed our things (and please do not underestimate how many toys, treats and other comforts a pampered pup requires!), I wanted to weep. There’s something profoundly disturbing about not feeling safe in your home. Disturbing and disorienting.
We made our escape with the car’s air conditioner going full blast. Despite her ongoing difficulties with motion sickness, Lila put on a brave face and kept her breakfast down for the duration of the trip. She’d never been to the city before but, when we arrived, she handled all the traffic and noise with equanimity. The footpaths scorched her paws and shade was hard to come by. The tap water tasted funny, but it was too hot not to drink. And we couldn’t throw a ball in the office. She never complained.
We eventually found ourselves going for a walk in a filthy park. Negotiating broken beer bottles with the wind driving hot heavy air into our eyes and mouths. I pleaded with Lila to please do whatever was required before one or both of us keeled over from heat stroke or something. Perhaps she was dehydrated because it took her forever. Afterwards, we slogged to an outdoor café for refreshments. With Lila doing a little window-shopping along the way.
Thankfully, no big fires had broken out during the day so we slept in our beds that night. Exhausted from our wanderings. And feeling more certain than ever that there’s no place like home.
[If you have received this post by email, please click “dog downunder” or “lila the labrador flees the fire zone” in order to view accompanying video in a web page.]
Naturally, Lila had never before encountered ferrets and when she caught her first whiff of Rodger and Dodger (arriving in a box), she was pretty excited. Much more so than she’d ever been about rabbits. I feared for the ferrets’ lives and tied Lila to a fence post where she could watch them from a safe distance. Quietly. So as not to distract them from their work.
The ferreter and his young daughter laid nets across the entries and exits of a rabbit warren and then encouraged the two sleek, curious creatures (neutered in case one or both should go missing and create a different sort of ecological problem!) with a soft excited sh-sh-sh to tunnel through and flush out any occupants. Lila strained at her lead, but understood that barking was forbidden.
After exploring every passageway, disappearing at one end and then popping up at the other as if to say “Nothing here!”, Rodger and Dodger led us to believe that the rabbits were not in residence. It was evening so maybe they were otherwise engaged. Wreaking havoc on the environment elsewhere. Wherever they were, it was a disappointment. And Lila would now have to wait till another occasion to witness the ways of the world.
[If you have received this post by email, please click “dog downunder” or “rodger and dodger: two ferrets doing a dog’s job” in order to view accompanying video in a web page.]
When the vet nurse called a few hours later to say our pup was recovering nicely, I nearly cried with relief. And I couldn’t wait to pick her up. I wanted her out of there! I imagined a sweet reunion where Lila would rush into my arms and lick my face with joy. Instead, she approached tentatively. Dopey, disoriented and disfigured. My guilt soared another notch. Before heading home, we were advised to keep Lila “quiet” for two weeks. No problem I thought. The next morning, however, I found myself rereading the post-op instructions to make sure I hadn’t misunderstood. I hadn’t.
With each day of restricted activity, Lila’s spring coiled more tightly. She was going crazy with boredom and I was going crazy trying to keep her entertained. How many toys can a dog squeak in a day? How many rawhide bones can one chew? By the end of the first week, Lila’s mischievous streak had taken on new dimensions. It had become downright destructive. She’d only been on her own for half an hour when Phil and I returned to a house strewn with objects not just shredded, but masticated almost beyond recognition. And for a horrible few minutes we could only locate one of four AA batteries. Tooth-marked. We couldn’t go on like this. We broke the rules. We let Lila off lead with the hope that she wouldn’t do anything silly. And end up back at the vet’s for another round of surgery.
I wouldn’t say she was perfect, but she was reasonably sensible until Christmas Eve. When we had houseguests. And far too much excitement. After dinner (but before dessert) we’d all wandered briefly outside when Lila spontaneously started doing laps. Not leisurely ones, but crazy little circles with sudden spurts and leaps. I shouted out for someone to please open the front door to get her back inside the house. Big mistake. She vaulted the threshold and headed straight towards the dinner table, where she took a flying leap onto it (scattering cutlery and toppling water glasses but miraculously not breaking a thing) and, in response to our chorus of shouts and shrieks, just as suddenly flew off again. Until we had the presence of mind to tackle her. My nerves were shattered, but thankfully Lila’s stitches remained intact.
[If you have received this post by email, please click “dog downunder” or “lila comes home from the hospital” in order to view accompanying video in a web page.]
17
Dec
09
lila’s first holiday
The most exciting aspect of this adventure was seeing the world through Lila’s eyes. Glimpsing for the first time the surf and learning its rhythms. Poking her chocolate nose into mysterious rock pools and prancing along the beach with seaweed streamers held aloft. Alert to the snores and belches of koalas perched in the treetops. Digging holes deep in the sand just for the hell of it. Tantalised by flashy king parrots and sulphur-crested cockatoos, staring back at her with heads cocked. And at long last sleeping in the same room with us (jumping onto our bed at the crack of dawn!). If ever a pup knew how to have fun, it was Lila. Her enthusiasm bubbled over.
Of course, holidays can never be perfect. One afternoon, while walking on a bush track, the sun came out. And so did the flies. Not nice ones, either. The biting kind. When she’d snap at one, there’d be two others. And on the beach, there came an unexpected wave big enough to require body surfing. With knitted brow, Lila let it carry her safely back to shore. Occasionally, while exploring she’d encounter ugly signs with a red slash across a black dog. Unwelcoming. And we mustn’t forget the winding roads that made her tummy ache. She coped pretty well though. And felt it was all worth the trip.
[If you have received this post by email, please click “dog downunder” or “lila's first holiday” in order to view accompanying video in a web page.]
06
Dec
09
like a duck to water
The other morning the sun was shining brightly, Lila’s best friend Ochie (and owner Kiersten) had come to visit and there wasn’t a kangaroo in sight (please see the “lila the labrador encounters a kangaroo” post to grasp the full meaning of this). The timing seemed perfect to take the two dogs for a swim in our dam.
Ochie, although somewhat older than Lila, hadn’t had much opportunity to swim. And Lila none at all. Nevertheless, once in the paddock, they both headed straight into the water. Although Lila immediately put her webbed toes to good use and went for a confident paddle, she was puzzled by the water not being solid and slapped at it with her paws. In the video, Kiersten speaks on behalf of Lila: “I should be able to walk on it!”
A moment later, after a ball was pitched into the dam, something unexpected occurred. Lila launched herself at it from the embankment, hit the water with a whopping belly flop and sank like a stone. Ochie couldn’t believe his eyes and rushed to her rescue. Lila soon resurfaced, however, unfazed. Well, almost. She’d forgotten the ball.
[If you have received this post by email, please click “dog downunder” or “like a duck to water” in order to view accompanying video in a web page.]
Until her very last days, our border collie Rosie worked hard to keep the rabbit population in check. She became highly skilled at stalking and swiftly exterminating those on our property. In the early years, however, she was not so adept and, on one occasion, I found her prey in a somewhat less-than-dead state. I shouted out to Phil to please come help me drown the poor creature. Somehow it was understood that my role would be to fill a bucket while Phil’s would be to carry out the rest. To his relief, the rabbit vanished while the tap was still running.
And now our puppy Lila has arrived on the scene. She has a strong curiosity about rabbits, but no killer instinct. Maybe it’s her laid-back Labrador nature, but she’d much rather admire a bunny than chase one. Or God forbid have one for breakfast. (My apologies for capturing her attitude through a flecked windowpane.)
[If you have received this post by email, please click “dog downunder” or “a labrador with no taste for rabbit” in order to view accompanying video in a web page.]
17
Nov
09
lila the bomb sniffer
I found this podcast pretty compelling…especially the description of the powerful and healing relationship that develops between dogs and prisoners — and I highly recommend listening to it yourself on the National Public Radio website — but what had immediate personal relevance and caused my eyes to snap open was learning how the dogs were matched with a career based on personality type.
The service dog constantly looks up at its owner and asks, “What do you want me to do now? Tell me what’s next and I’ll do it!” The bomb-sniffing dog behaves in a more assertive, more “in your face” way and likes to make decisions. When I heard this, I knew immediately that, had our Labrador Lila been recruited to Puppies Behind Bars, she most definitely would have been destined for bomb sniffing.
The challenge for me has been to try to convert some of Lila’s bomb-sniffing aptitude into more of a service dog mentality. Because I lack what you might call an “alpha” personality, this requires a concerted effort. Lila is an extremely confident, proactive little girl and I have to work overtime to keep up with her. The video accompanying this post shows Lila attending a “boot camp” run by a quirky taskmaster (wearing white knee socks in the background.) As you can see, Lila is very much her own dog.
[If you have received this post by email, please click “dog downunder” or “lila the bomb sniffer” in order to view accompanying video in a web page.]
05
Nov
09
a dog with her bone
Our Labrador Lila is not yet five months old and I already find myself forced to whisper “b-o-n-e” whenever using the word out of context (the context of Lila receiving one). If I make the mistake of SAYING the word, even when she’s theoretically out of earshot, she will suddenly burst through the doorway and skid to a halt at my feet. Her whole body wagging with expectation.
If given what she so desires (specifically, half a lamb shank), she will briskly trot to a comfortable spot on the lawn and devote an entire afternoon to its consumption. With eyes half-closed with contentment. Gnawing it every which way. Maybe even extracting a couple more baby teeth in the process. What bliss.
Despite a reluctance to reveal my less-than-optimal control over the situation, I have included a video of how Lila’s bone-eating sometimes transpires.
[If you have received this post by email, please click “dog downunder” or “a dog with her bone” in order to view accompanying video in a web page.]
27
Oct
09
two dogs two toys
One of Lila’s best friends is a sweet-tempered, generous boy named Ochie (as in “ochre”). A 16-month-old red merle Australian Shepherd. At home, he is blessed with a huge collection of fun and engaging objects, and he is thoughtful enough to bring a couple along with him when he visits Lila. Multifaceted tug toys that can be swapped, shared and occasionally dismantled (and thankfully reassembled once the parts are recovered).
Lila has her own toys, but Ochie’s are better. And they provide a good distraction from her desire to chew his cheeks. (Lila hasn’t grown up yet.) When Ochie first presented the tug toys to Lila, I thought she might be too young for the game. I was wrong. Within seconds, she had grasped the rules and the two of them promptly began to play. Ochie sometimes deferring to Lila’s tender age and graciously allowing her to score a few extra points.
[If you have received this post by email, please click “dog downunder” or “two dogs two toys” in order to view accompanying video in a web page.]
17
Oct
09
what’s that doggy doing?
The other morning Lila had appropriated a bright red plastic bucket. Maybe it was the colour. Or the shape. Or simply the fact that it wasn’t hers. But she wanted it. To do something. Roll. Tilt. Snap. I’m not sure. On the lawn, she turned it this way and that exploring the options.
Typical puppy stuff, but Lily was intrigued. She caught sight of Lila sporting the red bucket and marched straight over to the fence to investigate. With warm bemusement. Lily likes to think of herself as a bit more dignified than your average dog, but sometimes she gets sucked in.
[If you have received this post by email, please click “dog downunder” or “what’s that doggy doing?” in order to view accompanying video in a web page.]
With her second vaccination finally under her belt, we headed off to a puppy preschool with the expectation of plenty of opportunity for her to mingle. To my amazement, most of the other owners were even more protective of their pups than I! Strangely so. Every time our sweet little chocolate Lab approached, the owners would swiftly reel in their charges. Terribly disappointing for Lila. And for me. The puppies were expected to line up like robots while the instructor delivered a lecture. (Lila couldn’t be bothered with this and would instead take great pains to distract the puppy sitting quietly next to her and invariably annoy its owner.)
After a few such sessions, it seemed desirable to transfer her to another school where puppies were allowed to romp off lead within the confines of some derelict tennis courts. When we arrived there one cold, wet morning (now deemed a blessing in this drought-stricken part of the world), I looked at the dozen or so other puppies rough-and-tumbling on the soaked courts and they were HUGE. All of them six months and under I was assured, but some of them had reached adult size and they were not small breeds.
Nevertheless, I took a deep breath, squeezed quickly through the gate with Lila (making sure no puppy sneaked out) and let her loose. Without a moment’s hesitation, Lila was off and running. Dancing. Exuberantly zigzagging through the crush of puppies and humans with the greatest of confidence. Sailing. Leaving other puppies in her wake. Toppling a brawny Bernese Mountain Dog who lost his footing while trying to cut her off at the pass. All that socialisation during her first month with us had clearly paid off. She was the life of the party.
[If you have received this post by email, please click “dog downunder” or “when you’re the littlest pup at school, it pays to be fast” in order to view accompanying video in a web page.]
I wouldn’t say that I’m a particularly downbeat person, but I do find myself sometimes greeting the day with a touch of trepidation. Worrying needlessly that I won’t be able to get through my long list of whatever. Our Labrador Lila, however, awakens each morning with a sense of adventure. Bursting with anticipation of all the amazing things the day might bring! I think to myself: THAT is the way to live.
Although our house is made of mud brick, it features more than the usual amount of floor-to-ceiling glass. This means that when Lila’s wandering around the property, she can see in and I can see out. Even when I’m sitting at the computer and she’s outside surveying her kingdom, we can keep tabs on each other. Sometimes, however, she forgets I’m watching…
This week’s video clip features Lila caught unawares from my study. I spotted her in the garden “harvesting” the flower heads from a 10-foot-high Banksia shrub. She was so intent upon the task at hand that she failed to see me standing at the window with a camera. I didn’t know Labradors could climb like that, but a few awkward moments notwithstanding Lila managed to scale new heights.
[If you have received this post by email, please click "dog downunder" or "for lila the labrador, each day is an adventure" in order to view accompanying video in a web page.]
19
Sep
09
puppy gets a tummy ache
When her breakfast predictably resurfaced, I knew we’d be heading off to the vet. Not a mean feat either given Lila’s tendency towards motion sickness. And I had promised myself only to put her in the car when there was something pleasant at the end of the journey. The best laid plans. The poor doggy whimpered and drooled all the way there (with me stroking her head with one hand and steering the car with the other). Thankfully, she’d managed to empty her stomach before our departure.
Not shying away from the vernacular, the vet pronounced that a “sock or jock” blockage was unlikely owing to Lila’s bowel movements continuing in a timely, perfectly formed manner. She thought it far more likely that Lila had ingested something nasty enough to throw the ecosystem of her gut out of whack. She recommended a liquid diet for the remainder of the day, antibiotics, and nothing but chicken and rice (Lila’s favourite!) for the subsequent 48 hours.
We then headed home with me feeling the worst was over. Until Lila came within millimetres of ignoring the vet’s advice and wolfing down the three chicken breasts I’d just picked up from the butcher, without any regard for her proposed convalescence. And then, having averted that disaster (in case I had any doubt about the absence of a blockage), she proceeded to deposit another perfectly formed pile of poo on the back seat of the car.
I hope you won’t think less of me if I confess to pouring myself an extra glass of Shiraz at dinner.
[If you have received this post by email, please click “dog downunder” or “lila gets a tummy ache” in order to view accompanying video in a web page.]
A decade or so ago Phil and I moved from the Big Smoke to rural Victoria. A classic tree change. When we arrived, we felt like outsiders. City slickers. Some of our more seasoned neighbours muttered that we wouldn’t last. (I suspect they’d caught glimpses of our bungled attempts at “working the farm”…doing and undoing each chore at least a few times before finally and accidentally getting it right.)
When a crusty old fencer turned up on our property, he warned me to keep our border collie Rosie out of the paddocks because, he expanded with a sideways glance, the kangaroos would lure her into our dam and drown her. I figured he was playing with me, but I kept the information on file just the same. And even went to the trouble of relaying it to another local bloke while asking him to please shut the paddock gate. He replied that he’d lived around here all his life and had never seen the likes of that.
Yet he’d barely uttered the words (and hadn’t quite shut the gate!) when bullet-like Rosie shot through ready to round up a mob of kangaroos grazing a hundred metres away. And, lo and behold, within seconds one of them had hopped into the dam and swum to the deepest part with Rosie madly paddling behind. It wasn’t until the kangaroo faced her and started swiping the air with its razor claws that Rosie thankfully had second thoughts and hightailed it back to shore. Nevertheless, while scrambling across the paddock (the bloke pleading with me not to jump into the water), I’d managed to scream so violently that I was hoarse for days.
A pack of dogs can do horrific damage to a lone kangaroo. But a dog on its own does not stand a chance. Normally the kangaroos stay in our paddocks so when a 6-foot-tall rogue male bounded past me in our front yard this morning, I got a serious fright. Where was my little Lila pup?!? My heart racing, my eyes darting around searching for her while charting the trajectory of this massive kangaroo. And then, just as he sailed over the fence back into a paddock, I spotted her. Clever girl. There she was hiding behind a shrub. Wide-eyed and stock-still. Waiting for me to rescue her. We looked at one another and mopped our collective brow.
[If you have received this post by email, please click “dog downunder” or “lila the labrador encounters a kangaroo” in order to view accompanying video in a web page.]
22
Aug
09
dog meets horse
In the months after, I sensed that Lily missed Rosie, whose company she had enjoyed (despite Rosie’s annoying habit of playfully snapping at her bum whenever the opportunity presented itself.) She had especially loved teasing Rosie, who devoted hours of each day to waiting outside the paddock for Lily to do something. Something exciting. Something chaseworthy.
Lily knew the score and made the most of it: maybe I will maybe I won’t. When she eventually obliged, Rosie’s herding instinct would go into overdrive, with Lily gleefully whizzing up and down the fence line just out of reach of poor Rosie barking and circling in frenzied pursuit on the other side.
So when our Labrador puppy Lila recently arrived (yes, that’s right…Lily and Lila), I was eager to observe the interspecies interactions. On her first morning here, I carried Lila to the fence and called out to Lily who ambled over to meet the brown fuzzy baby in my arms. It was a quiet moment with each creature softly sniffing. Each curious to know the other. Lila awestruck but not fearful. Lily inhaled Lila’s puppy scent and gave a sigh of contentment.
Then I put Lila on the ground. Despite being a pint-sized pup, Lila bounced around confidently…until the terrible moment when Lily invited Lila to chase her (the way Rosie always had) by going for an impressive gallop. To Lily’s obvious disappointment, the thundering hooves sent Lila hurtling full tilt back towards the house. Scared witless by the earth rumbling beneath her. And prompting Lily to go easy with subsequent encounters.
It is still early days, but I can see the two girls forming a friendship. With Lila now sometimes pleading with Lily to play. A few inches apart, they often graze together. (They both love their grass.) Although I am confident Lily would never intentionally harm her, a hoof wrongly put could be catastrophic for a puppy. So for now, they will continue to happily and safely become acquainted across the fence.
14
Aug
09
just a dog
I’d spent the past couple of months designing the nursery, researching puppy preschools, and examining the nuances of natural diet. Meticulously planning Lila’s future with all the ambitions of an expectant mother. There was no way I was going to leave my nine-week-old chocolate baby at home alone! If anyone questioned me about her hangdog appearance, I’d simply say she takes after her father.
When Lila bumped her head hard on the edge of a coffee table and yelped, that moment defined our relationship. She ran to me for comfort and I instinctively gave her every ounce I could muster. From her amazing hazel eyes to her round pink belly to the brown tuft modestly atop her most private part to her tiny snores in the middle of the night, I adore her.
When I hear the phrase “just a dog”, my hackles go up. Compared nose-to-nose, I’m not so sure our species comes out ahead. People often disappoint, but in my experience, dogs rarely do. They’re totally transparent. And happy for you to be, too. Whether you talk nonsense in a silly voice or whisper your secrets softly into a floppy ear, a dog will never make you feel shame. Or regret.
05
Aug
09
saying goodbye to rosie
A dog blog. Not my idea. My husband’s. Phil has lots of ideas, but this one I liked. I imagined it would be all about having fun with our new Labrador puppy Lila, but now know that the blog can’t start without the sad end of our border collie Rosie.
Rosie was to have been dead within weeks. Possibly days. No later than Christmas the vet predicted. Her tumour could cause a massive brain haemorrhage. So we promptly began the grim task of digging a grave in one of our horse paddocks. It was summer. In Australia. The ground rockhard after eleven years of record-breaking drought. Our task made even more miserable by sweltering heat.
Phil hacked at the rock with a mattock while I clawed at the loosened earth with my hands. We hated what we were doing. We snarled at each other. We feared scavenging foxes and turned the grave into a fortress lined with chicken wire to be topped with a concrete slab. We couldn’t agree on the correct size of the grave. I put a tape measure to poor Rosie. I angrily climbed into the grave myself to prove Phil wrong. It was big enough. Rosie looked on. And then defied the odds. She lived 13 months beyond Christmas.
Although thankful for the extra time, it was torture. I didn’t want her to bleed to death. I didn’t want her to have seizures. I wanted to call the shots, but felt overwhelmed by the responsibility. I didn’t want to do it too soon. I didn’t want to do it too late. How would I know when the time was right? I knew. Rosie suddenly turned a very sharp corner and I couldn’t get the vet here quickly enough.
She showed up in black. The vet. I said nothing but wondered whether she may have dressed for the funeral. But no, she was on her way to an evening out. I was worried about her wearing good clothes in the paddock. She wasn’t. With her bare hand, she picked up a clump of horse poo, tossed it aside and plunked herself down next to Rosie. She couldn’t have cared less that she had hay all over the back of her when she left. I am eternally grateful.
Remembering saying goodbye to Rosie makes my eyes sting. I held her long past the moment her warmth had drained away. I laid her limp body in the grave along with her lambskin bedding and toys. I’d been dreading this for the not-quite-ten years of her life. And yet I still found myself unprepared.
Phil said we should get another dog. Inconceivable. When no one was looking, I’d wander down to Rosie’s grave and lie on the grass beside it. I didn’t cry. I just lay there. Close to her. I had a crazy thought: I could dig her up and have one last look. Phil hinted that might not be advisable. Of course, he was right. And I didn’t really mean it anyway.
And then a few weeks later the state of Victoria was ravaged by bushfires. A terrible distraction. Grief shunted aside by shock. I was relieved Rosie had gone when she had. After the inferno, smoke continued to churn from the charred hills around us. The phone rang day and night. Everyone talking talking talking. Whose house had burned. Who had died how. How lucky we were to be alive. I didn’t feel lucky. I didn’t feel much at all.
