Happy New Year from Django

I saw a bumper sticker the other day in the shape of a paw that read "Who Rescued Who?"  It's one of the things I frequently feel about Django.  He's rapidly become an uber-family member, choosing to spend time in the house as close to us as possible.  He sleeps under the bed (he has to scoot himself sideways using his claws on the berber carpet to get under there!)  He loves to play tug-of-war turning any leashed walks into play time.  He chases balls, and apples from the tree which he eats.  He also likes bananas.  He actually returns the balls, and if I have two, he'll bring one back, drop it, and chase the other one.  He can, theoretically, do this for hours.  I have not tested it yet.  He has learned to swim, first when he fell off a log into deep water, and finally as I threw balls out just beyond wading range.  Now he will swim quite far out.  He gets out of the yard once in awhile but seldom leaves the driveway.  He hangs out with us outside, and comes reliably when called.  During our almost daily woods walks, he runs off frequently, but keeps an eye (and ear) out for me, and always reappears (except the time he turned the wrong way on the logging road and ran back to the car.)  He wants to be included in every activity.  He continues to try and get the cat to play (good luck).  And finally, he's ready for the New Year.

Negligent in Posting

Life with Django is fun, interesting and never dull.  He's turned out to be a great dog, and there are many stories to tell, but not enough time or drive.
Here's an interesting quote I came across about training dogs.

"Training a dog is a matter of how much we want to enter into the dog's world, and how much we want them in ours."

Makes sense.  If we're dictatorial in our training, we want them in our world; if we follow them where they lead, we want to learn more about their world.

Life Goes Well

Django is burrowing further into our hearts every day/hour/minute/second.  On the weekends, and other times we're home he's as close to us as possible.  He loves chasing balls, grabbing the leash, going on walks to the tree farm and the lake trail, chasing his tail and jumping on the bed.
I need to get more pictures and will as soon as I get my new camera for Christmas (early I hope!) - A Canon Powershot ELPH.
Here's a fun dog read:  http://www.theawl.com/2011/11/how-to-talk-to-your-dog

The End of the White Dog Era (for us)

As some of you know, Misha escaped again a week from last Wednesday (11/2).  That night there was a bad storm, and since she didn't come back the next day we feared the worst.  The days went by and we had no reports of her, either by neighbors, our Craigslist ad, or the animal wardens.  Joanie and I hypothesized what might have happened, and both of us began facing up to the possibility that she might be gone for good, and probably dead.  I envisioned her being hit by a car and crawling off into the woods to die.
Last Friday evening, around six, we received a call in response to the Craigslist ad.  The caller had seen a dead white dog, around 50 lbs, on the median strip of I-5 just below Ferndale.  Since it was already dark, Joanie and I made plans to go look the next morning, and if it was Misha, to retrieve the body.  We even discussed where to bury her.
At around 7:30 there was barking in the front yard, and incredibly, it was Misha announcing her return, and wanting to be let back in the yard, which we did.  We pampered her that night with food, but we had already decided that if, by some miracle she returned, we were returning her to WAMAL, since we could not care for her properly.  I had a commitment Saturday, so we planned to take her back to the Holiday Kennel in Kent on Sunday.  Sylvia, from WAMAL, had sent us some ACE, and we gave her one, then, two, then three (the max) without a lot of results.  We tried to get close enough to her with food, then I just spent time in the yard with her, picking up poop and straightening up, hoping she would fall asleep.  Our plan was then to get her into the crate.  But to no avail, so around 10:30 we called animal control to assist us.
While cleaning along the fence, I discovered a handle with a loop attached to it, and Joanie and I were both totally puzzled about where it came from.  We wondered if someone had come in the yard and tried to capture her.  But why?
When the animal patrol wardens came, we had the answer.  Earlier on the same Friday Misha returned, they spotted her around Whatcom Community College, some 5-6 miles from our house.  One of the wardens spent about 3 1/2 hours trying to get near enough to her to snag her with the noose.  When she finally did, Misha gave a terrific jerk and jerked the tool out of her hands, running off.  An hour or so later she showed up at our house.  She'd dragged the noose with her across 3 four-lane roads, and 5 miles home!  We didn't even notice it on her, and she must have wriggled out of it that night.
With the help of the wardens, and our neighbors Pete and Linda, Django's godparents, we formed a line in the yard, wardens with nooses on the ends.  We backed Misha up into the corner of the hay she slept in.  At that point, surrendering, Misha began shaking with fear, and we all started crying.  The warden, talking softly, slipped up to her and slid the noose over her head, and we led her to the crate and put her in.  I then drove her down to the Holiday Kennel.  We understand that Michelle, her foster mom, will take her back.  Michelle is set up with a kennel, and better facilities for a dog like Misha.
But we feel as if we've failed in some way, and are very, very sad for her.  Misha has an amazing spirit to be able to overcome all she has.  If our circumstances were different we would have kept her.

Waking Up

The white dog Misha disappeared last Wednesday and there has been no sign of her since.  There was a large storm that evening/night, which may have disoriented her, since she's been able to find her way home the previous 8 times she's escaped.  We have neighbors, the animal warden and Craigslist on the lookout.  My worst fear is that the warden will call up and tell me she's killed 40 lambs.

On another note, and you should not do this at home as it violates all the rule books, but there is no better way to face the day.

Diablo Blanco

No, not really, although it's a catchy name for Misha, the White Devil.  We spent yesterday, Sunday, re-enforcing the yard and making it look more like the Beverley Hillbillies live there.  Railroad ties, cement blocks, plywood, wire, left-over tv dinner containers :) stacked up or laid down along the fence.  All the time the dogs were hanging out with us, taking notes of weaknesses, potential dig sites, and places to climb.  I'm sure they were up all night planning their attack, then acting coy at breakfast, like nothing what-so-ever was happening.
Seriously though, it was a rough week last week.  Misha got out five days straight, digging mammoth holes into our neighbor's yard, then running the neighborhood, and apparently harassing chickens and rabbits up the street (well she's a malamute after all).  The neighbors were all involved in numerous efforts to get her in, and I got very friendly with the animal warden who was a saint through all this.  It got so I refused to answer my phone at work for fear of what I'd find out.
But she's such a sweetie in some weird impossible to rationalize ways.  We actually had thought we'd return her to WAMAL, but are having second thoughts.  The WAMAL folks are being super supportive, and sending us something to relax her.  And there's always the trainer, and an electric fence.
Hope springs eternal in the mal owner's soul.

Monday, Monday

The weekends are hard.  Since we're around all weekend our expectations for progress go up, but usually we emerge frustrated.  Misha takes around 100 steps backwards for each step forward.  She somehow got out of her collar trying to dig out friday and we tried to capture her Saturday to get her collar back on.  I seduced her with chicken jerky then made a grab for her and she snapped at me.  Now she won't even take treats from my hand and is still without collar.  Yesterday, Monday, I got a call at work from my neighbor that the dogs were out.  She managed to get them back in, once, but then they were back playing in the street. She then managed to get Django back in but not Misha.  It was a long day of neighborhood vigilantes, and when I got home from work at 6:45 and they were both back, although Misha was more spooked than ever.  I had to fill in holes and drag RR ties along yet another fence.  Misha has a strong escape urge, and since we can't walk her, she takes any opportunity she can to get out.  Django on the other hand was in the yard two hours without getting out the hole (that I filled in later).  Unfortunately, as I have several evenings booked, this leaves Joanie with the burden of cleaning up after the hounds, feeding, watering, et al.  Leading to a bit of discord.  We're calling Misha the white devil, blanco diablo.