The idea of building value for the handler and blending work and play without constant reliance on food or toys has been a huge part of my on-going training evolution. These were concepts I’d rarely bothered with before Phoenix. Jess, Connor and Jamie ate cookies and worked happily - who need anything else? They say you may not get the dog you want but you WILL get the dog you need. When I got Phoenix, I got a whole lot more than a wonderful dog. I got a wonderful teacher.
After finishing 2 OTChs. that were basically trained with cookies, I hit the wall with Phoenix. He liked cookies well enough. He like obedience well enough, too, but when the cookies disappeared, so did any genuine enthusiasm for the project. I was baffled. How could I make an intrinsically un-rewarding activity fun for my dog?
While the “Make it fun” approach was nothing new — we’d given it lip service for the last 30 years — the emphasis (at least for me) was starting to shift toward dogs doing obedience work not because they were forced or bribed to, but because they truly enjoyed doing this stuff with their owners. Maybe this had been going on for a long time and I just finally noticed. (Truthfully, Connor gave me this on a silver platter and I did not recognize it.) The interaction was rewarding. Now dogs worked for the engagement with their owner - not relying on external rewards or the threat of punishment. There were tangible rewards but the reward was no longer the focus of the training experience.
Food was still in the picture but the way trainers used it changed - the dog no longer received it for sitting there like a bump on a log. Food became active. The dog could chase you to get his food or leap up for it or race to grab it off a target. Food suddenly had energy. Fun became FUN! So different from my former teaching to deliver the food directly to the dog’s passive mouth!
Food use aside, I started to explore the concept of letting my dog make the choice to engage with me. Build the relationship and then work the performance skills from a base of voluntary participation, not force or bribery. From day one, I’d been taught that the first step in training was to “get your dog’s attention.” That approach clearly presumed the dog was not paying attention in the first place and you were required to “make” the dog look at you. Even before training started, compulsion or bribery were in play.
In all my years of training, it had never once occurred to me that I could let my dog call the shots, so to speak, and decide whether or not he would be a willing, happy participant in my games. If yes, we would train/play. If no, the session would end without me bribing or forcing, which in all honesty were the two routes I’d been taught to follow - pop the collar or wave the cookie.
There was a great deal of mental agony when I realized that left to his own devices, Phoenix would happily ignore me in the context of training unless I initiated the contact (force or bribery). We would go to the building, snap on a leash, go out on the floor and he would sniff, pull, turn his back to me, watch other dogs, etc.
Ack. No wonder our obedience work was such a mess. What I had mis-interpreted as stress in the ring was a casual indifference for an activity he did not find terribly rewarding unless I was offering cookies and toys. I had to do all the work. He loved me but that did not automatically translate to a love of heeling and fetching.
Slowly, this is changing. I am learning more about play. Through play, I naturally become more interesting to my dog. I have stopped doing all the work for him. I am learning to be patient (always thought I was a patient person before - not so much). I am learning to let him make decisions. I am learning to let him drive the bus.
Now I snap on a leash and go out on the floor and he’s giving me eye contact, bouncing, pushing to work, pushing to play with me. He’s bright and engaged and working. What a bossy, annoying, wonderful dog! He occasionally drives the bus right over a cliff but I will never fault anything that is done with enthusiasm. So much better than our previous sulky, “I’ll do it if I have to” attitude.
We’re not perfect. We still have weak spots. Some days our engagement is shaky at best. But my approach to training is no longer about dominating another species and making it submit to my wants and wishes. I’m learning to work with my dog, not just inflict my will on him and make him do things with no regard to how he feels about it.
Perhaps the biggest gift Phoenix has given me is the ability to question the status quo. But that’s another post.
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
Evolution, Part 2
The cookie revolution hit my training world in the late 1990s, about 20 years after I started in obedience training in the local 4-H program. By then, I was out of college and showing my shelties, Jess and Connor.
Terri Arnold was the first seminar presenter I saw who used food. Terri’s methods tempered prong collars with cookies, a concept my brain struggled with. Why bother with the cookies if you were going to pop the dog on a prong collar anyway?
I understood (or thought I did) the concept of teach the behavior, then after a reasonable amount of time, during which I was to assume the dog had “learned,” I was to correct for failure to comply. As trainers, we were still strictly encouraged to never let the dog “get away” with anything. I guess the dogs were going to take over the world if they “got away” with something.
I went to seminars, trained and showed my dogs, had success and failure and finished my first OTCh. I watched multiple trainers use the same methods, all with varying results. I started teaching classes and had the eye-opening experience that I could tell students exactly how to do something and they’d come up with at least 5 different variations on theme, none of which were what I’d told them to do.
The purely positive movement arrived in this area some time during Jamie’s career, in the early 2000s. It was all about the cookie. I went to a Patti Ruzzo seminar. Patti was all cookie, all the time. I liked the concept but how could this work? What were you supposed to do if the dog did something wrong? What if he didn’t give a hoot about getting the cookie? I felt like I was missing something but I learned to cram hot dogs and string cheese in my mouth like a crazed chipmunk and how to spit food for my dogs to catch.
Clickers came on the scene about then, too. At first, I wasn’t impressed. I saw a bunch of cookie-waving, clicker-clicking trainers who started in beginners classes and several years later, were still in beginner classes with dogs who showed no concept of having been trained to do anything but eat cookies.
Cookies were used as bribes to get and maintain the dog’s attention. In fact, we taught the dog to LOOK AT THE COOKIE. Talk about taking the handler out of the equation! With the cookies, the dogs were attentive and accurate workers. Without the cookies to maintain an illusion of engagement, the dogs wandered off with little interest in interacting with their owners, let alone the ability to perform formal exercises under any sort of ring pressure.
BUT . . I also saw some trainers building fast, happy retrieves under distractions without ear pinches and teaching pretty heeling without repeated collar pops. Did they correct? Yes - but the corrections had changed. This was a huge epiphany. You COULD train without force and it DID work, but only if the trainer had a clear understanding of what they were doing and was in it for the long run - “positive” training was not a quick-fix that could be applied by throwing cookies at a problem. There were no magic cookies.
Corrections themselves were no longer the emotional, negatively charged power trips that forced the trainer to physically and mentally dominate the dog in order to make him obey. The trainer no longer approached training with the attitude of “gotta show the dog who’s boss.” They weren’t called “corrections” any more, either, because of all the poisonous baggage attached to the word. I don’t know what they’re called now but the “C” word still raises all sorts of alarms and red flags.
Tomorrow: engagement, play and letting Phoenix drive the bus.
Terri Arnold was the first seminar presenter I saw who used food. Terri’s methods tempered prong collars with cookies, a concept my brain struggled with. Why bother with the cookies if you were going to pop the dog on a prong collar anyway?
I understood (or thought I did) the concept of teach the behavior, then after a reasonable amount of time, during which I was to assume the dog had “learned,” I was to correct for failure to comply. As trainers, we were still strictly encouraged to never let the dog “get away” with anything. I guess the dogs were going to take over the world if they “got away” with something.
I went to seminars, trained and showed my dogs, had success and failure and finished my first OTCh. I watched multiple trainers use the same methods, all with varying results. I started teaching classes and had the eye-opening experience that I could tell students exactly how to do something and they’d come up with at least 5 different variations on theme, none of which were what I’d told them to do.
The purely positive movement arrived in this area some time during Jamie’s career, in the early 2000s. It was all about the cookie. I went to a Patti Ruzzo seminar. Patti was all cookie, all the time. I liked the concept but how could this work? What were you supposed to do if the dog did something wrong? What if he didn’t give a hoot about getting the cookie? I felt like I was missing something but I learned to cram hot dogs and string cheese in my mouth like a crazed chipmunk and how to spit food for my dogs to catch.
Clickers came on the scene about then, too. At first, I wasn’t impressed. I saw a bunch of cookie-waving, clicker-clicking trainers who started in beginners classes and several years later, were still in beginner classes with dogs who showed no concept of having been trained to do anything but eat cookies.
Cookies were used as bribes to get and maintain the dog’s attention. In fact, we taught the dog to LOOK AT THE COOKIE. Talk about taking the handler out of the equation! With the cookies, the dogs were attentive and accurate workers. Without the cookies to maintain an illusion of engagement, the dogs wandered off with little interest in interacting with their owners, let alone the ability to perform formal exercises under any sort of ring pressure.
BUT . . I also saw some trainers building fast, happy retrieves under distractions without ear pinches and teaching pretty heeling without repeated collar pops. Did they correct? Yes - but the corrections had changed. This was a huge epiphany. You COULD train without force and it DID work, but only if the trainer had a clear understanding of what they were doing and was in it for the long run - “positive” training was not a quick-fix that could be applied by throwing cookies at a problem. There were no magic cookies.
Corrections themselves were no longer the emotional, negatively charged power trips that forced the trainer to physically and mentally dominate the dog in order to make him obey. The trainer no longer approached training with the attitude of “gotta show the dog who’s boss.” They weren’t called “corrections” any more, either, because of all the poisonous baggage attached to the word. I don’t know what they’re called now but the “C” word still raises all sorts of alarms and red flags.
Tomorrow: engagement, play and letting Phoenix drive the bus.
Monday, January 14, 2013
Evolution, Part 1
I’ve been writing this for a long time. The problem with blogging is once you’ve posted it, it’s out there forever, for the entire universe to read, and I want to make sure my thoughts are presented as clearly as possible. The purpose of this series of posts is to review my journey as a trainer. I’m sure some of you will remember and relate. For others who have come to the sport only recently, this first post will be a foreign concept. Either way, it’s been enlightening to look back and trace my journey through a sport that changed tremendously. Everyone's journey is different. These are my impressions.
I started training dogs as a kid in the local 4-H program in the 1970s. In the following 40 years, the evolution of training dogs for competitive obedience has been staggering. While it’s probably safe to say most trainers have abandoned jerk and yank methods, new training concepts are not always embraced enthusiastically. There is always a great deal of nay-saying when new ideas come on the scene. Some people welcome new methodologies with open arms while others reject them, almost on the principal of disliking anything new.
Back in the day, my instructors were 4-H leaders. I think they might have had a couple of CDs and maybe a CDX between them. We were taught to use physical force to make our dogs obey because that’s how you taught dogs who was in charge. Dogs had to obey every time we told them to do something. If they didn’t, we were taught to correct them with no regard to why they were being “disobedient.” We were taught to never let a dog “get away” with being disobedient. I suspect this worked for me because the first dog I trained was the geriatric family beagle. Even as a 9 year old kid, I could control her physically. If I’d had a young, large or rambunctious dog, things might have gone differently.
Corrections were part of training. They were implemented early and often, usually before the dog realistically had any idea what we wanted him to do and therefore how to avoid the correction. It didn’t matter - we were taught to show the dog who was boss. Dogs were never encouraged to think for themselves, only obey their handler. No one gave their dogs treats. No one played with their dogs. “Heeling training” might be 20 minutes of marching around the building, doing jerk and release corrections with dogs on chokers.
If I had to pick one word to describe obedience training back then, it would be "confrontational."
This was my introduction to obedience and it stuck for about 20 years. I really do understand why so many people fled from the obedience scene to what they perceived as the greener hills of agility when that option became available.
Well, I lived through that. Tomorrow: the cookie revolution
I started training dogs as a kid in the local 4-H program in the 1970s. In the following 40 years, the evolution of training dogs for competitive obedience has been staggering. While it’s probably safe to say most trainers have abandoned jerk and yank methods, new training concepts are not always embraced enthusiastically. There is always a great deal of nay-saying when new ideas come on the scene. Some people welcome new methodologies with open arms while others reject them, almost on the principal of disliking anything new.
Back in the day, my instructors were 4-H leaders. I think they might have had a couple of CDs and maybe a CDX between them. We were taught to use physical force to make our dogs obey because that’s how you taught dogs who was in charge. Dogs had to obey every time we told them to do something. If they didn’t, we were taught to correct them with no regard to why they were being “disobedient.” We were taught to never let a dog “get away” with being disobedient. I suspect this worked for me because the first dog I trained was the geriatric family beagle. Even as a 9 year old kid, I could control her physically. If I’d had a young, large or rambunctious dog, things might have gone differently.
Corrections were part of training. They were implemented early and often, usually before the dog realistically had any idea what we wanted him to do and therefore how to avoid the correction. It didn’t matter - we were taught to show the dog who was boss. Dogs were never encouraged to think for themselves, only obey their handler. No one gave their dogs treats. No one played with their dogs. “Heeling training” might be 20 minutes of marching around the building, doing jerk and release corrections with dogs on chokers.
If I had to pick one word to describe obedience training back then, it would be "confrontational."
This was my introduction to obedience and it stuck for about 20 years. I really do understand why so many people fled from the obedience scene to what they perceived as the greener hills of agility when that option became available.
Well, I lived through that. Tomorrow: the cookie revolution
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
Year of the cat
This is Winnie The Cat.
Not Winnie, the cat.
Winnie The Cat.
By my best calculations, she is 17 years old. I realize this is an absolutely absurd age for an outdoor farm cat but she was born several years after I got Connor, and I got him in 1994. So you do the math. Even if I'm off by a couple of years, she's still an antique.
She is the only cat at our place now.
Several years ago, I did The Great Farm Cat Purge. Many of our less-than-healthy farm cats made a one-way trip to the vet. Natural attrition (disease, the road, coyotes and raccoons) reduced the remaining numbers.
This spring I want to introduce some new cats to our farm. A farm needs cats. Healthy, strong, spayed/neutered vaccinated cats. Cats who can catch mice and keep them out of my house. The Farmer is all about getting a couple of cats. He is NOT all about mice in the house.
Phoenix wants a cat.
Actually, he and Winnie The Cat get along fairly well. She doesn't move very fast. Some days, I don't think she moves at all. She hangs out in the garage. I occasionally see her sauntering around the farm as if she has no where to go and all day to get there. She lazes in spots of sunshine and greets me with happy (demanding) yowls every afternoon when I get home from work. She eats her kitty crunchies and sleeps in her Rubbermaid tote lined with old crate fuzzies and insulated with old rugs.
She's pretty agile though. She leaps around in the garage like she's half her age. Phoenix follows her around, pokes her with his nose and occasionally squashes her with a paw. She's tolerant. Or maybe she's oblivious. She seems to like him. He is fascinated by her, in that slightly creepy Malinois way that is borderline obsession.
So getting a couple of kittens is on my agenda this spring. I'm under no delusions that Phoenix will be as graciously patient with leaping, twirling, spinning, racing, hissing, spitting, swatting kittens. Not sure Winnie The Cat will be either.
But she has three names. The kittens will have one name each. So they should realize they are inferior.
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
Forget formal
Got an interesting e-mail from a friend and student recently. She asked about the best way to “transition to formal training without (insert dog’s name here) hating it.”
The underlying assumption is that once you quit playing around with food and toys in training and start to seriously prepare for the ring, the dog will naturally hate obedience in the absence of his goodies.
It happens. We’ve all seen it. Watch any beginner-level obedience class and the dogs are usually pretty happy. There are cookies. There are toys. There’s no pressure. Everyone is having fun.
Then trainers decide it’s time to get ready to show and they “get formal.” The cookies and toys disappear. What have you got left?
Relationship.
What a complicated word.
It’s not just loving your dog and your dog loving you back, although that is part of it. But it goes deeper. It’s about really enjoying working together. It’s about finding one another rewarding. It’s about trust and respect and patience. It’s accepting there will be good days and not so good days when it comes to achieving the things you want.
You’re never done building and maintaining a strong relationship with your dog but it’s more valuable than any magic treat or favorite toy and absolutely worth every second you put into it.
Having said all that, one of the (many) huge lessons Phoenix has taught me is that “formal” is overrated.
I used to train by taking my dog to a park or building, setting up gates, jumps, etc. and then running my dog through each Open and Utility exercise. Everything was just like they would see and do it in the ring, right down to the fronts and finishes. We did this over and over and over.
Oddly enough, this method worked great for my first sheltie, Jess, because he truly LOVED (yes, in all caps) obedience. It also worked with sheltie Connor because he was a Type A workaholic personality. It worked to a degree with Jamie, because he is the Most Patient Dog In The World and he just did whatever I wanted him to do.
It did not work with Phoenix. Phoenix did not truly love obedience and he is not a patient dog.
That was when I learned that “formal” training is overrated.
Our training now is a mix of doodling, problem solving, drive building and play with an occasional formal element thrown in. This is how we "get ready for the ring."
Granted, this is with a dog who has his UD and understands the exercises. If he showed any confusion about a skill, then we’d go back to the foundation and focus on clearing up the problem. But since he is allegedly “trained,” our training time is not spent marching formally from one exercise to the next.
It’s about having fun together. Training has to be fun on a level far beyond cookies to expect any lasting ring carryover. We’ve learned to play. I’ve learned the difference between him eating a cookie and totally turning on for a game of chase or tug.
When preparing for the ring, I think it’s important for the dog to see the whole exercise assembled occasionally, so yes, by all means, do a formal recall once in a while. Do a stretch of formal heeling. Then do a half-dozen informal recalls using restraint or heel with hand touches, spinning and chasing. Do whatever makes it fun for BOTH of you.
This takes a little more effort on the trainer’s part because you won’t be relying on external motivators to build your dog up. But you’ll be building something even more important - your dog’s attitude about doing obedience with you and loving it.
The underlying assumption is that once you quit playing around with food and toys in training and start to seriously prepare for the ring, the dog will naturally hate obedience in the absence of his goodies.
It happens. We’ve all seen it. Watch any beginner-level obedience class and the dogs are usually pretty happy. There are cookies. There are toys. There’s no pressure. Everyone is having fun.
Then trainers decide it’s time to get ready to show and they “get formal.” The cookies and toys disappear. What have you got left?
Relationship.
What a complicated word.
It’s not just loving your dog and your dog loving you back, although that is part of it. But it goes deeper. It’s about really enjoying working together. It’s about finding one another rewarding. It’s about trust and respect and patience. It’s accepting there will be good days and not so good days when it comes to achieving the things you want.
You’re never done building and maintaining a strong relationship with your dog but it’s more valuable than any magic treat or favorite toy and absolutely worth every second you put into it.
Having said all that, one of the (many) huge lessons Phoenix has taught me is that “formal” is overrated.
I used to train by taking my dog to a park or building, setting up gates, jumps, etc. and then running my dog through each Open and Utility exercise. Everything was just like they would see and do it in the ring, right down to the fronts and finishes. We did this over and over and over.
Oddly enough, this method worked great for my first sheltie, Jess, because he truly LOVED (yes, in all caps) obedience. It also worked with sheltie Connor because he was a Type A workaholic personality. It worked to a degree with Jamie, because he is the Most Patient Dog In The World and he just did whatever I wanted him to do.
It did not work with Phoenix. Phoenix did not truly love obedience and he is not a patient dog.
That was when I learned that “formal” training is overrated.
Our training now is a mix of doodling, problem solving, drive building and play with an occasional formal element thrown in. This is how we "get ready for the ring."
Granted, this is with a dog who has his UD and understands the exercises. If he showed any confusion about a skill, then we’d go back to the foundation and focus on clearing up the problem. But since he is allegedly “trained,” our training time is not spent marching formally from one exercise to the next.
It’s about having fun together. Training has to be fun on a level far beyond cookies to expect any lasting ring carryover. We’ve learned to play. I’ve learned the difference between him eating a cookie and totally turning on for a game of chase or tug.
When preparing for the ring, I think it’s important for the dog to see the whole exercise assembled occasionally, so yes, by all means, do a formal recall once in a while. Do a stretch of formal heeling. Then do a half-dozen informal recalls using restraint or heel with hand touches, spinning and chasing. Do whatever makes it fun for BOTH of you.
This takes a little more effort on the trainer’s part because you won’t be relying on external motivators to build your dog up. But you’ll be building something even more important - your dog’s attitude about doing obedience with you and loving it.
Thursday, January 3, 2013
Dog boots
I’m generally not one for having dogs wear clothing, probably because I’ve always had coated breeds who handled cold weather just fine. While I understood the need to put coats on Italian greyhounds and dobermans in the winter, I never saw the need for my own dogs to have a wardrobe beyond their everyday collars and their show collars.
Connor changed that. The winter of 2000-2001 was absolutely horrible. Not only did we get a lot of snow, we got a lot of cold, with air temps below zero for days on end and wicked bitter windchills. Connor did not want to go outside. After just a few minutes of running around to potty, his feet hurt. He did that pathetic “cold foot dance,” lifting first one paw then another. Several times I had to rescue him because he simply froze in one spot, unable (or unwilling) to walk back to the house.
So I got him a pair of dog boots.
You have to understand something about Connor. He loved to dress up. Seriously. He enjoyed wearing things. Anything. During his career, he wore all manner of bandannas, hats, a kilt and bonnet, a tuxedo and sunglasses into the obedience ring while doing the team class. Some dogs tolerated being dressed up. Connor genuinely liked it. He preened. He flounced. He never, ever tried to take anything off.
So I figured the boots would solve the cold foot problem. After some initial stiff legged marching and spastic paw flicking, they did.
When the temps dropped below zero for the rest of his life, I put Connor’s boots on him before he went outdoors. He trotted around happily and no longer suffered from the dreaded "cold foot." Once in a while one would fall off and have to be retrieved from a snow drift but they served admirably for the next 10 years. I still have them.
Flash forward to New Year’s Eve, 2012. I let the dogs out after supper. I let the dogs back in and watched in horror as they went frisking around the kitchen, leaving a trail of bloody paw prints in their wake.
There are several universal rules governing bleeding paws.
1) You will never get the baby gate shut before all dogs frisk their way off the kitchen vinyl onto the carpet in the next room.
2) Your spouse will unwittingly decide to call the dogs - from the other end of the house.
3) All dogs will become suddenly and mysteriously deaf to your commands to sit.
4) Should you grab a dog, it will not be the one who is bleeding.
5) The bleeding dog will be oblivious and could not care less.
By the time I got the Belgians corralled in the kitchen and inspected their paws, the floor looked like the Great Homestead New Year’s Eve Massacre had taken place. I won’t say there was blood spatter on the walls but it was close.
Phoenix had cut a pad on the jagged ice in the back yard. Not a big deal but definitely a bloody one. For the next few days, every time he went outside I vet-wrapped his paw so he didn’t tear it up any more. He was not a big fan of this. He hobbled around, carrying his bright blue paw up in the air. When he got outside, he forgot he was grievously injured and went running around like an idiot, which probably explains how he got hurt in the first place.
I finally decided to save on my vet wrap budget and just order a pair of boots for protecting any injured paws in the future.
Did you know there are entire websites devoted to dog boots? Amazing. I don’t remember there being that many sites when I got Connor’s boots but that was 15 years ago. Apparently dog fashion has taken off since then.
The boots have been ordered. When they get here, I’ll have both dogs practice wearing them, so when the next paw injury happens, the trauma won’t be increased by having a foreign object attached to their foot. I suspect Phoenix will be fine with it but Jamie is as much against wearing “things” as Connor was for it.
That’s okay. Jamie is also sensible enough not to go ripping around on the ice and getting hurt in the first place.
Connor changed that. The winter of 2000-2001 was absolutely horrible. Not only did we get a lot of snow, we got a lot of cold, with air temps below zero for days on end and wicked bitter windchills. Connor did not want to go outside. After just a few minutes of running around to potty, his feet hurt. He did that pathetic “cold foot dance,” lifting first one paw then another. Several times I had to rescue him because he simply froze in one spot, unable (or unwilling) to walk back to the house.
So I got him a pair of dog boots.
You have to understand something about Connor. He loved to dress up. Seriously. He enjoyed wearing things. Anything. During his career, he wore all manner of bandannas, hats, a kilt and bonnet, a tuxedo and sunglasses into the obedience ring while doing the team class. Some dogs tolerated being dressed up. Connor genuinely liked it. He preened. He flounced. He never, ever tried to take anything off.
So I figured the boots would solve the cold foot problem. After some initial stiff legged marching and spastic paw flicking, they did.
When the temps dropped below zero for the rest of his life, I put Connor’s boots on him before he went outdoors. He trotted around happily and no longer suffered from the dreaded "cold foot." Once in a while one would fall off and have to be retrieved from a snow drift but they served admirably for the next 10 years. I still have them.
Flash forward to New Year’s Eve, 2012. I let the dogs out after supper. I let the dogs back in and watched in horror as they went frisking around the kitchen, leaving a trail of bloody paw prints in their wake.
There are several universal rules governing bleeding paws.
1) You will never get the baby gate shut before all dogs frisk their way off the kitchen vinyl onto the carpet in the next room.
2) Your spouse will unwittingly decide to call the dogs - from the other end of the house.
3) All dogs will become suddenly and mysteriously deaf to your commands to sit.
4) Should you grab a dog, it will not be the one who is bleeding.
5) The bleeding dog will be oblivious and could not care less.
By the time I got the Belgians corralled in the kitchen and inspected their paws, the floor looked like the Great Homestead New Year’s Eve Massacre had taken place. I won’t say there was blood spatter on the walls but it was close.
Phoenix had cut a pad on the jagged ice in the back yard. Not a big deal but definitely a bloody one. For the next few days, every time he went outside I vet-wrapped his paw so he didn’t tear it up any more. He was not a big fan of this. He hobbled around, carrying his bright blue paw up in the air. When he got outside, he forgot he was grievously injured and went running around like an idiot, which probably explains how he got hurt in the first place.
I finally decided to save on my vet wrap budget and just order a pair of boots for protecting any injured paws in the future.
Did you know there are entire websites devoted to dog boots? Amazing. I don’t remember there being that many sites when I got Connor’s boots but that was 15 years ago. Apparently dog fashion has taken off since then.
The boots have been ordered. When they get here, I’ll have both dogs practice wearing them, so when the next paw injury happens, the trauma won’t be increased by having a foreign object attached to their foot. I suspect Phoenix will be fine with it but Jamie is as much against wearing “things” as Connor was for it.
That’s okay. Jamie is also sensible enough not to go ripping around on the ice and getting hurt in the first place.
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
Off to a good start
Yeah, I know, everyone is sick to death of cookies and we're all on diets now. Right?
Forget the post-holiday diet freak out. This recipe was one of my 2012 discoveries and I feel compelled to share because there's a lot of winter left and that means a lot of cookie baking opps. It wouldn't be right to keep this to myself.
These taste like little chocolate cakes. Adding cake frosting or even a powdered sugar glaze would be a religious experience. Actually, eating them hot out of the oven with a glass of cold milk was nirvana.
If you use the ice cream scoop, the recipe only makes about 12-14 cookies, total. So recipe doubling is definitely advised.
CHOCOLATE DROP SUGAR COOKIES
2/3 C. butter, softened
1 C. sugar
1 egg
1 1/2 tsp. vanilla
1 1/2 C. flour
1/2 C. cocoa
1/2 tsp. baking soda
1/4 tsp. salt
1/3 C. buttermilk or sour milk*
Heat oven to 350 degrees. Lightly grease cookie sheets or line with parchment paper.
Beat butter and sugar in large bowl until well blended. Add egg and vanilla; beat until fluffy. Stir together flour, cocoa, baking soda and salt; add alternately with buttermilk to butter mixture. Using 1/4 cup (#20) ice cream scoop or 1/4 cup measuring cup, drop dough about 2 inches apart onto prepared cookie sheet. (The dough is VERY sticky.)
Bake 13 to 15 minutes or until cookie springs back when touched lightly in center. Cool slightly; remove from cookie sheet to wire rack. Cool completely. Makes about 1 dozen cookies.
* To make sour milk, use 1 tsp. white vinegar plus milk to equal 1/3 cup.
Forget the post-holiday diet freak out. This recipe was one of my 2012 discoveries and I feel compelled to share because there's a lot of winter left and that means a lot of cookie baking opps. It wouldn't be right to keep this to myself.
These taste like little chocolate cakes. Adding cake frosting or even a powdered sugar glaze would be a religious experience. Actually, eating them hot out of the oven with a glass of cold milk was nirvana.
If you use the ice cream scoop, the recipe only makes about 12-14 cookies, total. So recipe doubling is definitely advised.
CHOCOLATE DROP SUGAR COOKIES
2/3 C. butter, softened
1 C. sugar
1 egg
1 1/2 tsp. vanilla
1 1/2 C. flour
1/2 C. cocoa
1/2 tsp. baking soda
1/4 tsp. salt
1/3 C. buttermilk or sour milk*
Heat oven to 350 degrees. Lightly grease cookie sheets or line with parchment paper.
Beat butter and sugar in large bowl until well blended. Add egg and vanilla; beat until fluffy. Stir together flour, cocoa, baking soda and salt; add alternately with buttermilk to butter mixture. Using 1/4 cup (#20) ice cream scoop or 1/4 cup measuring cup, drop dough about 2 inches apart onto prepared cookie sheet. (The dough is VERY sticky.)
Bake 13 to 15 minutes or until cookie springs back when touched lightly in center. Cool slightly; remove from cookie sheet to wire rack. Cool completely. Makes about 1 dozen cookies.
* To make sour milk, use 1 tsp. white vinegar plus milk to equal 1/3 cup.
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