tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-89918739130415564002024-03-05T03:42:02.792-08:00Ray the Blind DogA blog about the life of a born-blind Redtick Coonhound.Ray the Blind Doghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06736385808454815957noreply@blogger.comBlogger929125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8991873913041556400.post-70549814775899953592024-01-12T12:38:00.000-08:002024-01-12T12:38:40.032-08:00Winter Pics<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHBq6f0qFrLeDOprIy32lPImMxWLXG3xwObo65ZBoGqR7PD655o-NajceIC7DWTpnjO4I6jsIODPqBvjBhjEQFsRfefHWpxyZTnVgGAZBm2dazPM-24BKE5gnnWj4wgbfJbsCWKkQikWR-btFJKfNfbnjI4-PKQxWAsm3r3zTcGgLk-kvG2BiQVAHgtqOL/s3264/IMG_6454.JPG" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHBq6f0qFrLeDOprIy32lPImMxWLXG3xwObo65ZBoGqR7PD655o-NajceIC7DWTpnjO4I6jsIODPqBvjBhjEQFsRfefHWpxyZTnVgGAZBm2dazPM-24BKE5gnnWj4wgbfJbsCWKkQikWR-btFJKfNfbnjI4-PKQxWAsm3r3zTcGgLk-kvG2BiQVAHgtqOL/s320/IMG_6454.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Merry Christmas!<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinExMPPESOZKBoaBlXPTKWHdIyL31FgPPktoESANxMxwtzBMrvs1Gfe7Cnm6zaDE4tQz4d4ErE8JWGHiIy3k3p26m7YDVNgExBHPAVjrzdui8AXJt5SI6mDrFiJnK8hMQ803gso1jKk5Z0sW8XP10fI2yHYldTvBOqAH05PBhUEvS3H5J1Ro98_ygxW2iO/s3264/IMG_6497.JPG" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinExMPPESOZKBoaBlXPTKWHdIyL31FgPPktoESANxMxwtzBMrvs1Gfe7Cnm6zaDE4tQz4d4ErE8JWGHiIy3k3p26m7YDVNgExBHPAVjrzdui8AXJt5SI6mDrFiJnK8hMQ803gso1jKk5Z0sW8XP10fI2yHYldTvBOqAH05PBhUEvS3H5J1Ro98_ygxW2iO/s320/IMG_6497.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm not coming out until winter is over.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjn3ZorvoPPH6_haXpSIutDts4kNhRgjxj3HjzVeclpw7LN-X9YPgkCvmlD1nQJMQQ1Rv0itMoshT205K4ETS8BerrRcVXgikQOCgWJc45yaTyNvpUH5eXOgL7ZbwqL-RvPGIf0CxkcVlgxhL0hl9yxVfpT6gx00vE9HLHSEqg08z9MZ8Z1c-TP3b8gnf0/s3264/72030197746__2E4135D7-7BF6-4F46-AF83-F31022EDC14B.JPG" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjn3ZorvoPPH6_haXpSIutDts4kNhRgjxj3HjzVeclpw7LN-X9YPgkCvmlD1nQJMQQ1Rv0itMoshT205K4ETS8BerrRcVXgikQOCgWJc45yaTyNvpUH5eXOgL7ZbwqL-RvPGIf0CxkcVlgxhL0hl9yxVfpT6gx00vE9HLHSEqg08z9MZ8Z1c-TP3b8gnf0/s320/72030197746__2E4135D7-7BF6-4F46-AF83-F31022EDC14B.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">FOR ME??!!??<br /></td></tr></tbody></table>Ray the Blind Doghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06736385808454815957noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8991873913041556400.post-35506560246158529872023-04-07T05:21:00.001-07:002023-04-07T11:29:09.949-07:00Just a Few Pics<p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy7kFITeJerqNyGXhbUUIl8WV9nJcPR1iH7a3RBZY6aaZNVKaejavCPbae8eAt0klZgBL8lVmVILyhMwyQ89joYdBj5kp2QXrZAHwKt3s99q83xm6_PhvtW09j1I5FK3IVTSf-kd8sREk1TkGQdWwPE1ltPSxArg4O43mCh74Zx3d7c_6-CHsD6EWnzg/s2574/69896414818__B36B8CF4-1FBA-4C0B-AE48-0501ACDEA0DB.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1877" data-original-width="2574" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy7kFITeJerqNyGXhbUUIl8WV9nJcPR1iH7a3RBZY6aaZNVKaejavCPbae8eAt0klZgBL8lVmVILyhMwyQ89joYdBj5kp2QXrZAHwKt3s99q83xm6_PhvtW09j1I5FK3IVTSf-kd8sREk1TkGQdWwPE1ltPSxArg4O43mCh74Zx3d7c_6-CHsD6EWnzg/s320/69896414818__B36B8CF4-1FBA-4C0B-AE48-0501ACDEA0DB.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cat conference.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ39nAn-gRaUau4pRw8D7_zpeLw3q5vGYkO9pQI8lek1Bg97resFlONyRIHoiOBqRFT1PlF4ZQJUJSG9nuBJW619bdo60Bs00x85ePlAZDfco8s-X2EeIAbovFktr4QZK2AYvk_vr6whQQc-ECXlu2Tb8zIz0viD-Be6zrRRexmGokeIPilGP2T_4IOg/s3264/fullsizeoutput_16b5.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ39nAn-gRaUau4pRw8D7_zpeLw3q5vGYkO9pQI8lek1Bg97resFlONyRIHoiOBqRFT1PlF4ZQJUJSG9nuBJW619bdo60Bs00x85ePlAZDfco8s-X2EeIAbovFktr4QZK2AYvk_vr6whQQc-ECXlu2Tb8zIz0viD-Be6zrRRexmGokeIPilGP2T_4IOg/s320/fullsizeoutput_16b5.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Excuse me but I'm trying to sleep here.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQh5LaMjI3pKWGd8z8fYFjPf8TrzHG34b_ujzf0bGgv829J9wa9WC-s06tKDDQ2tQ4Dn2yOLrWijwj6-ArqQtRnXq6DRHYtoqiAdsuWUJ5shhHlMOs5JEId6vDtrwxDV_9yo0lHhk_hYk35wg2GhiJmVIG90WOKLktbGtYu0BxUVTirvhEYi3_i5N02A/s2025/fullsizeoutput_16cc.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1347" data-original-width="2025" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQh5LaMjI3pKWGd8z8fYFjPf8TrzHG34b_ujzf0bGgv829J9wa9WC-s06tKDDQ2tQ4Dn2yOLrWijwj6-ArqQtRnXq6DRHYtoqiAdsuWUJ5shhHlMOs5JEId6vDtrwxDV_9yo0lHhk_hYk35wg2GhiJmVIG90WOKLktbGtYu0BxUVTirvhEYi3_i5N02A/s320/fullsizeoutput_16cc.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just another beautiful flower.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrSOLT53KL_MU8MrxTC1dnELLtR1E6BUf0cBuf4isEkJKTNYrRj5d87A_RQPFaCJrcPLZKNUeO-gy40sGceAkZCS_QEWoD6Va02y6hKuZC8EM2wfOJ1fn8pjN2WLPJ4pwQHhNoP6QKaZIA2KZj-XNcfDxQKKfDyOtuT99xHqB5nvjjWHRngBxldl-wNQ/s1269/fullsizeoutput_16cd.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1269" data-original-width="1022" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrSOLT53KL_MU8MrxTC1dnELLtR1E6BUf0cBuf4isEkJKTNYrRj5d87A_RQPFaCJrcPLZKNUeO-gy40sGceAkZCS_QEWoD6Va02y6hKuZC8EM2wfOJ1fn8pjN2WLPJ4pwQHhNoP6QKaZIA2KZj-XNcfDxQKKfDyOtuT99xHqB5nvjjWHRngBxldl-wNQ/s320/fullsizeoutput_16cd.jpeg" width="258" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Upward facing dog.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP8Z-1z3aPv7x4FbINhvyXXcm9Yla5EGsydSgS35yMQyd-eTvUNIYNBd5PXygVd7Q3DRtW-u04a3Txu2dIdTXewPGaq_IInqaMmO1eHRpQkoHl-CWwvlSMNt67wTteMH8rpel-w6WkKWpdrVu1XIuVcgjekgUavzF9LW_vuDquvy1eVM7dx7wFUJlZLw/s3264/IMG_5562.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP8Z-1z3aPv7x4FbINhvyXXcm9Yla5EGsydSgS35yMQyd-eTvUNIYNBd5PXygVd7Q3DRtW-u04a3Txu2dIdTXewPGaq_IInqaMmO1eHRpQkoHl-CWwvlSMNt67wTteMH8rpel-w6WkKWpdrVu1XIuVcgjekgUavzF9LW_vuDquvy1eVM7dx7wFUJlZLw/s320/IMG_5562.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Upward facing cat<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZetRKNknTndzFnmSQ_SfwBGLVoRBM-4duBwklmgX60bOi7uuVfWlb8W2HzLWzR690dSoYxF3zl1eTLfuVfybQgNZL5J7clh7DJHVJIlJ7f1CkzMVGQhPCbBHKd2Fi5qHcd4aNOvpo_8ggRaIzHQKFgacsDmm7uUtPosp1xqATkIM6l825ZX_TMybmLw/s3264/IMG_5563.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZetRKNknTndzFnmSQ_SfwBGLVoRBM-4duBwklmgX60bOi7uuVfWlb8W2HzLWzR690dSoYxF3zl1eTLfuVfybQgNZL5J7clh7DJHVJIlJ7f1CkzMVGQhPCbBHKd2Fi5qHcd4aNOvpo_8ggRaIzHQKFgacsDmm7uUtPosp1xqATkIM6l825ZX_TMybmLw/s320/IMG_5563.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Have you finished the floors yet?<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCF8ZBIRywrLZLQN2jaHmtS6ddDf581UpRIRLzjlQevAHhpXzdsqZ40K2w16yFCYwbMopSko5qBmUzylx2RaKxyIKAagDxnTwba2-6u3la_Eb9BRTPjTi85eq1absg5tlhXxnpT-jIz1efAvBYJTMxzOL__0BFZsFf1VJWwbh7VYIMMy-kmuJjGBiJKg/s3264/IMG_5566.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCF8ZBIRywrLZLQN2jaHmtS6ddDf581UpRIRLzjlQevAHhpXzdsqZ40K2w16yFCYwbMopSko5qBmUzylx2RaKxyIKAagDxnTwba2-6u3la_Eb9BRTPjTi85eq1absg5tlhXxnpT-jIz1efAvBYJTMxzOL__0BFZsFf1VJWwbh7VYIMMy-kmuJjGBiJKg/s320/IMG_5566.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No? I'll just wait outside 'till your done.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-2RVFKchS5Wsl4p4Kgbqy6Hr3TnIq5MZDv35cvunwW3v8OEHSydqn5uiPcsqVjdTEM7OK1v0ZHrzpMZWgGhykp3RIXSoPLyB3ctvuEo61tsSVPJOQDY0UYIUj2GaWUCAuw5RRghg4YJmlHlU4vIRnwCfpkZHS9XGrJzF1DO7tIGk2KtgDEvi-MBzOfg/s2100/RenderedImage.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2100" data-original-width="1575" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-2RVFKchS5Wsl4p4Kgbqy6Hr3TnIq5MZDv35cvunwW3v8OEHSydqn5uiPcsqVjdTEM7OK1v0ZHrzpMZWgGhykp3RIXSoPLyB3ctvuEo61tsSVPJOQDY0UYIUj2GaWUCAuw5RRghg4YJmlHlU4vIRnwCfpkZHS9XGrJzF1DO7tIGk2KtgDEvi-MBzOfg/s320/RenderedImage.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnLlIE_Dhd7PIkF5nJBRLuQIt2StB6FwaPQSU01CeWa-jYQc89HqtwAFpEo0p2PIMP9wEDfhlkeKzbVpTmGQaLu4Zj4-gHflqi6R-AXX0q7i8r96L8MA29F9axQilAmAvp50zh18xmrKSupShqsDYW_iO4jnp0dlRIGUyLYxik-eXGLTqTA4wO_m7lsg/s3264/IMG_5524.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnLlIE_Dhd7PIkF5nJBRLuQIt2StB6FwaPQSU01CeWa-jYQc89HqtwAFpEo0p2PIMP9wEDfhlkeKzbVpTmGQaLu4Zj4-gHflqi6R-AXX0q7i8r96L8MA29F9axQilAmAvp50zh18xmrKSupShqsDYW_iO4jnp0dlRIGUyLYxik-eXGLTqTA4wO_m7lsg/s320/IMG_5524.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Four comfy chairs, <br />she chooses the stone table.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /> <p></p>Ray the Blind Doghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06736385808454815957noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8991873913041556400.post-66205949078412087052022-09-03T06:39:00.000-07:002022-09-03T06:39:19.860-07:00Dog Gone<p>There's nothing worse than that pit-of-the-stomach feeling when you realize your dog has escaped. </p><p>We were having a new furnace installed. I hadn't closed the dog door which lets Cully out back. I figured that all of the workers had their own dogs and would understand that the gate needed to be kept closed. But I hadn't really understood their focus on the job at hand and the amount of back-and-forthness there would be to the AC unit out back. </p><p>I pretty quickly realized that Cully wasn't home. She had been popping in and out the dog door all morning checking on the work that was being done and when the dog flap stopped flapping my subconscious prodded me out of my chair to check on her whereabouts. She was nowhere to be found. </p><p>I asked the furnace guys if they had seen her but they hadn't. They immediately started calling for her, but I knew that would be futile. If she didn't come when I called, she wasn't likely to come to relative strangers, no matter how much she liked them. I grabbed her leash and treats and started off up the cul-de-sac. Since the gate that she escaped through was on that side of the house, I guessed that she'd probably just keep going in that direction. I didn't see her in anyone's front yard and the house next door was fenced but none of the houses after that had enclosed yards. </p><p>She hadn't gone far and she wasn't alone. Lionel, her trusty partner in crime was with her in the backyard just beyond the next door neighbor's. They were together sniffing at something in the grass. When I called her name, Cully lifted her head and took off further into the yard in a spastic run, the kind she does when she's got something that she shouldn't have and <i>knows </i>she shouldn't have. The great escape was now a big game. </p><p>I ran into the yard, pulled the treats from my pocket, and waved them in the air to get the scent blowing in her direction. Cully was running circles, mouth open in a big grin, butt tucked. She ran a few more circles then stopped, nose in air. I called her name and held a treat for her to see. She paused for a few seconds to think it over, ran a few more circles, then came at a dead run towards me stopping long enough for a quick snack and for me to grab her collar.</p><p>Cully, prancing, was accompanied back to the house by her self-appointed, furry, yellow bodyguard. Exhausted by their big adventure, the friends slept away the afternoon.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqDEdnfGPjHaqEngeRYMquyc1AifSIY8uI25RZbKvDbl59WGiuduR5F0EbogJ_tmSfdjArILEf2u4GnyRqZ0gxmksbMvo7tHG8FPxj2JJVpY3eTmeCGvm70VSCsqxDQ9nQuV71zAweWre-mS4sLHDEfk1LEA8e4tp1r1D-2jcXskNa52SNKuxrz3fz-g/s2833/fullsizeoutput_149a.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2281" data-original-width="2833" height="258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqDEdnfGPjHaqEngeRYMquyc1AifSIY8uI25RZbKvDbl59WGiuduR5F0EbogJ_tmSfdjArILEf2u4GnyRqZ0gxmksbMvo7tHG8FPxj2JJVpY3eTmeCGvm70VSCsqxDQ9nQuV71zAweWre-mS4sLHDEfk1LEA8e4tp1r1D-2jcXskNa52SNKuxrz3fz-g/s320/fullsizeoutput_149a.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We almost made it...<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /></p>Ray the Blind Doghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06736385808454815957noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8991873913041556400.post-76834218544334312382022-03-17T08:56:00.020-07:002022-03-17T09:06:09.584-07:00An Update<p>I know, it's been awhile, but I thought I'd post an update just in case anyone out there is still interested in what is going on with our girl-hound. </p><p>Cully has been here two and a half years now. It's been two and a half years of non-stop training. I would like to say that I can see the light at the end of the tunnel and in some cases, I think <i>maybe</i> she's finally got it, but in others...sigh. We never would have been able to do it without the trainer, but we finally have her dog agression under control. She still doesn't like dogs but she will ignore them on walks which, at this point, is all that matters. Her fear of trash trucks and motorcycles remains but is manageable. </p><p>I am sad to say, however, that Cully's counter-surfing is here to stay unless I do as the trainer suggested and get an e-collar. Cully doesn't realize it, but she is getting closer to that training measure every time she gets caught. Last night I almost lost an entire head of cauliflower. What dog in their right mind will eat a <i>cauliflower</i>? Most <i>humans</i> won't even eat a cauliflower. Cully, however, cannot be trusted when one is within reach. Opening the veg drawer in the fridge brings her running. Hearing me unwrap a head of lettuce has her drooling. (The Lettuce Reaction makes me laugh every single time, mainly because I think of Ray's equal but opposite Lettuce Reaction. The retraction of his lips as he'd politely take that disgusting thing in his teeth and walk to the front hall to discretely drop it out of view of the giver.) Cully LOVES lettuce. Anyway, enough about her training. </p><p>Personality wise, Cully is a sweetie. She's a bit quirky and incredibly stubborn, but sweet sweet sweet - except when it comes to squirrels. Cully despises squirrels in her domain and will explode out the back door like a squirrel-seeking missile if she sees one of the fluffy interlopers. Strangely she ignores them everywhere else but they are NOT allowed in her backyard. She enjoys the company of her cats, <i>must</i> have a paw on whomever she is talking to, and is especially attracted to old men. Other than these little things, Cully is your normal, everyday, vegetable-loving hound. If that is a normal thing. Vegetable-loving (shakes head in disbelief).
</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3c_9qgIKJENteXbLZce3QtwKaSw0aa3Sf-2HOELEpLIJRS6eABP4DbLzHzyWivqpEH_IvSApVXcZUYUJyZ1uc-huwlLVuY4A8n7_A0ToUsPLK4NJtcJqbv6_RS9cuw5OvIzcmQtxSsaeMY0PuCDw492sugGdzSlcJAOetxb1oXutM8YN1zFQu5r17pw/s3264/IMG_3341.JPG" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3c_9qgIKJENteXbLZce3QtwKaSw0aa3Sf-2HOELEpLIJRS6eABP4DbLzHzyWivqpEH_IvSApVXcZUYUJyZ1uc-huwlLVuY4A8n7_A0ToUsPLK4NJtcJqbv6_RS9cuw5OvIzcmQtxSsaeMY0PuCDw492sugGdzSlcJAOetxb1oXutM8YN1zFQu5r17pw/s320/IMG_3341.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Paw's on.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgja5gGTnArstVvMjmEwcObYT7pPLM_UDpoEbB80-CSvtNoPzQQ4rI8cZMwGSyGNHmKc02Ir4Y8RQNwT4QNJsz0oF4Dpoz4ujOtbVYYQHt8NGSPKUtZIRheq1I04Sd1Smt1FD6DeUPHNCC4pHhTXOc3cYas295JpK-EI9RyZjSrhJ_BOY5oGJql0jqEkg/s3264/IMG_3362.JPG" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgja5gGTnArstVvMjmEwcObYT7pPLM_UDpoEbB80-CSvtNoPzQQ4rI8cZMwGSyGNHmKc02Ir4Y8RQNwT4QNJsz0oF4Dpoz4ujOtbVYYQHt8NGSPKUtZIRheq1I04Sd1Smt1FD6DeUPHNCC4pHhTXOc3cYas295JpK-EI9RyZjSrhJ_BOY5oGJql0jqEkg/s320/IMG_3362.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cully and her favorite toys.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitbLnfv4NHlSTkfdYEPZrMCqqkvAu3XGcZZp8kEjHgk7XDQkyLQIMuvsYlz_u3rQ4sfnnEFUHlp8q60DDwibCwhtWnp5cpjvE2nMHCLGZvVGdlZXvpC5oVX1GCATVEEFsY8-jpLBgd3l76Jo4IbGJk6loDS0iyED2EUJZj_8ByITZB7y-5qDXxhb7poA/s3264/IMG_3368.JPG" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitbLnfv4NHlSTkfdYEPZrMCqqkvAu3XGcZZp8kEjHgk7XDQkyLQIMuvsYlz_u3rQ4sfnnEFUHlp8q60DDwibCwhtWnp5cpjvE2nMHCLGZvVGdlZXvpC5oVX1GCATVEEFsY8-jpLBgd3l76Jo4IbGJk6loDS0iyED2EUJZj_8ByITZB7y-5qDXxhb7poA/s320/IMG_3368.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Celebrating Valentine's day with her favorite cat.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO664bQaBALl9JfBSYH2vy_YvHKB9HMBUSijwKm5iEfupXZPluPsu3KQfcVI0emvdyJFb00tpkqpza5VD0QrKJrk3BynCCeIbGGXYEXVLRcpnij_2V-ktUjlYXUs_Ir7puVBI_D8XAJz7RwFpc0yfeXfxshnxhY0uQIiRNP4dFneCw_F9XPF-uFw8gww/s3264/IMG_3469.JPG" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO664bQaBALl9JfBSYH2vy_YvHKB9HMBUSijwKm5iEfupXZPluPsu3KQfcVI0emvdyJFb00tpkqpza5VD0QrKJrk3BynCCeIbGGXYEXVLRcpnij_2V-ktUjlYXUs_Ir7puVBI_D8XAJz7RwFpc0yfeXfxshnxhY0uQIiRNP4dFneCw_F9XPF-uFw8gww/s320/IMG_3469.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Celebrating St. Patrick's Day.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzx0z4Bo7pM-iqONZfc5CbkijC-2qKKmZQkc4bNm9eLDsc4WCBJ9PG5HDLEA2dwlxUzFraiR9PBJ5bxD1OoObkihdpy-DbdqsS2TMq0P1vtGuJ4NgmqTVkU6tgpjiDxZXFFHylAf8YuL4S-s7B-4T1TXZIp0DCyEJr4J1sH55Nsisxxs816GUS24fEdA/s3264/fullsizeoutput_1425.jpeg" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzx0z4Bo7pM-iqONZfc5CbkijC-2qKKmZQkc4bNm9eLDsc4WCBJ9PG5HDLEA2dwlxUzFraiR9PBJ5bxD1OoObkihdpy-DbdqsS2TMq0P1vtGuJ4NgmqTVkU6tgpjiDxZXFFHylAf8YuL4S-s7B-4T1TXZIp0DCyEJr4J1sH55Nsisxxs816GUS24fEdA/s320/fullsizeoutput_1425.jpeg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hanging with Li.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_62r3wfsgmiIrMwBgY_MJ633QHRhTto22_TQMrjna3LyWSrQkvVtPbl22vWK_esGY3cse-yA8EWH1KNRjjt72NK1meC1gobHgpo_ycuSNdVjp0sI9WESjTuanNV7uj0gD8ZhOw9r53L2g2iTv5NGNDNShpOS-A-xYscCLTAvhN8zVCE76lJayQ3kKEQ/s1110/fullsizeoutput_1426.jpeg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="1110" data-original-width="941" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_62r3wfsgmiIrMwBgY_MJ633QHRhTto22_TQMrjna3LyWSrQkvVtPbl22vWK_esGY3cse-yA8EWH1KNRjjt72NK1meC1gobHgpo_ycuSNdVjp0sI9WESjTuanNV7uj0gD8ZhOw9r53L2g2iTv5NGNDNShpOS-A-xYscCLTAvhN8zVCE76lJayQ3kKEQ/s320/fullsizeoutput_1426.jpeg" /></a></div>Ray the Blind Doghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06736385808454815957noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8991873913041556400.post-84943847104488740832021-10-14T05:53:00.000-07:002021-10-14T05:53:35.974-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUkKakZwXZNPNkhT8v0JsunQEFWfjZtBcpEBY-9AN6ATKdLVT_VuW5YtM1N52lt2PdikLDfhPlD8zcjr_tF1nfyPFcF2sWql_V33N16OEHNqKTi6WZOZVQFKoPs01UeKUw92DimDfDOojM/s2048/IMG_2843.JPG" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="400" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUkKakZwXZNPNkhT8v0JsunQEFWfjZtBcpEBY-9AN6ATKdLVT_VuW5YtM1N52lt2PdikLDfhPlD8zcjr_tF1nfyPFcF2sWql_V33N16OEHNqKTi6WZOZVQFKoPs01UeKUw92DimDfDOojM/s400/IMG_2843.JPG"/></a></div>Ray the Blind Doghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06736385808454815957noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8991873913041556400.post-957902685465999702021-04-01T08:08:00.002-07:002021-04-01T08:08:55.031-07:00From Z to A<p>"Where are the zucchini?" asked Gregg. </p><p>"On the kitchen counter." I replied. </p><p>There was a long pause. </p><p>"No, they're not." he said.</p><p>I sighed and got out of my chair to point out the obvious. I was thinking that, as usual, he couldn't see what was right in front of his nose. </p><p>But the zucchini weren't on the counter. Maybe, I thought, I'd left them in the fridge. Nope, not there. Maybe I'd accidentally put them in a cabinet. We checked all cabinets. Nothing. I was getting a bit desperate. I wondered if I'd thrown them in the dryer or left them in the bedroom. I was wandering around the house looking for zucchini but found no zucchini. No zucchini remnants. No skin, no stem. Nothing.</p><p>Neither one of us thought that the zucchini could have been a victim of counter-surfing. Our Ray would never have let an entire raw zucchini ever touch his lips never mind <i>steal </i>two of them<i>.</i> But this girl dog...hmmm. And although we wondered, we decided to give Cully the benefit of the doubt and chalk the zucchini up to covid brain. </p><p>Three days later an avocado disappeared off the counter. The pit, however, was found in the backyard being joyfully played with by a certain vegetable-loving hound. </p><p><br /></p>Ray the Blind Doghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06736385808454815957noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8991873913041556400.post-83148117780713097652021-01-21T08:13:00.001-08:002021-01-21T08:13:07.023-08:00Victory<p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheR-_8jjIhN-IbnizVX7-WEj0w0pmfyW29WXBVln64Xw5wN9V9zpxNfqwyRaSGjDJbKWzPlMUNN2Vw3uGMEw4bc2ToHXTINHlEJdkciPd5XxWohFhyphenhyphen7e1dzGI0i8KtUlZV6R6kfnA1CqQ4/s2048/IMG_2120.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheR-_8jjIhN-IbnizVX7-WEj0w0pmfyW29WXBVln64Xw5wN9V9zpxNfqwyRaSGjDJbKWzPlMUNN2Vw3uGMEw4bc2ToHXTINHlEJdkciPd5XxWohFhyphenhyphen7e1dzGI0i8KtUlZV6R6kfnA1CqQ4/w240-h320/IMG_2120.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Why we call her Miss Pink Belly<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /> A couple of months ago, I hired a dog trainer. Although we had conquered most of Cully's fear issues, her fear of trash trucks continued to be a problem. And as she became more confident, her dog aggression seemed to get worse. Although her dog aggression is still not under control, today we walked by a trash truck without Cully trying to back out of her skin, escape to the nearest backyard, or even walk up into the middle of someone's front yard. It has only taken one year, three months, and an enormous amount of treats but she is finally getting it. Although this might seem minor, this a major victory. </p><p>Next up, dog aggression. And then maybe we'll tackle that little issue of counter surfing...</p><p><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiav5aycQxETWDCrIQeEYLc3kTaHcknpb9TZkvqapiA5JXbcr14p5cgKb4CPLUleJXNd-BSV3ZnkV9z0lJQRoolt-Hn8KOQg1oNvZEoOZ9R9siVYZd7a303GaR5TzL-E-k4uXWEI8NZ_6s9/s1896/fullsizeoutput_1349.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1896" data-original-width="1445" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiav5aycQxETWDCrIQeEYLc3kTaHcknpb9TZkvqapiA5JXbcr14p5cgKb4CPLUleJXNd-BSV3ZnkV9z0lJQRoolt-Hn8KOQg1oNvZEoOZ9R9siVYZd7a303GaR5TzL-E-k4uXWEI8NZ_6s9/s320/fullsizeoutput_1349.jpeg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One year, three months.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table></p><p><br /></p>Ray the Blind Doghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06736385808454815957noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8991873913041556400.post-52573108610909309492021-01-09T08:54:00.000-08:002021-01-09T08:54:27.323-08:00Weird Coincidence?<p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Gregg and I like to watch mysteries. Cully is actually named after a character in one of our favorites (Midsomer Murders). So when our girl-hound started digging on the stair landing, my mind immediately assumed that there must be something sinister buried in that spot. Because, you see, that was Ray's favorite indoor place to dig. Outdoors he was not particular and neither is Cully. But indoors they both chose/choose the exact same location. As a matter of fact, Ray dug the stair landing so much that by the time he died there was very little rug remaining there. </p><p>That is a coincidence. But not the weird one. The weird one is in the video. I took the video of Cully on January 8, 2021 when I just happened to be sitting on the stairs with my laptop and she came up behind me and started digging. And when I found an old video of Ray that I had taken when he was still alive, it was from January 7, 2018. Almost exactly three years to the day from the other. So, do dogs need to go through some weird ritual digging in the early days of the new year to assure a good bone harvest? Or is there a body buried beneath our stairs (cue creepy music). <br /></p><p><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="322" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/nYOb54m4wVQ" width="400" youtube-src-id="nYOb54m4wVQ"></iframe></p>Ray the Blind Doghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06736385808454815957noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8991873913041556400.post-6108277941611449302020-10-10T12:23:00.002-07:002020-10-10T12:23:50.911-07:00She's Come a Long Way<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFz937lN2_zoI4YLoROTZqsQ4zWJidKT345HT01m_7oN4m5OT3bZoRXDf2PnBD9AQ3tZjojW83fACIQsuJn3C73YBfdhwaL-l2p-IrmDBn6CnBbCo7U5WUkUaoZhSnxoA5byJ4M1NhOKHI/s2048/IMG_0672.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFz937lN2_zoI4YLoROTZqsQ4zWJidKT345HT01m_7oN4m5OT3bZoRXDf2PnBD9AQ3tZjojW83fACIQsuJn3C73YBfdhwaL-l2p-IrmDBn6CnBbCo7U5WUkUaoZhSnxoA5byJ4M1NhOKHI/s320/IMG_0672.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">November 1, 2019<br />(scared to go outside)<br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTCIRAYWjEOyzsYYQEsQBRtMVc4kJ4L6lXgVxeOfxXhyuHfo7Wmz3viwLIV1QYZEv49J0muLumdsf__EH_yRQHIVI5pD3-uFReUfoV3lJUAlvd34vvghAeXElR2HEjnuVzqYH-DJVvcMR6/s2048/fullsizeoutput_130f.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1598" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTCIRAYWjEOyzsYYQEsQBRtMVc4kJ4L6lXgVxeOfxXhyuHfo7Wmz3viwLIV1QYZEv49J0muLumdsf__EH_yRQHIVI5pD3-uFReUfoV3lJUAlvd34vvghAeXElR2HEjnuVzqYH-DJVvcMR6/s320/fullsizeoutput_130f.jpeg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">October 9, 2020<br />(taken through the kitchen window)<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /></p><p><br /></p>Ray the Blind Doghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06736385808454815957noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8991873913041556400.post-18927086231965193232020-08-08T07:21:00.001-07:002020-08-08T07:21:55.645-07:00Nine Months<p> It's hard to believe that we've had Cully for nine months now. In some ways it seems like yesterday when we were bringing her home, but then I look at her, draped full-length on her favorite couch, and it seems like she's always been here.<br /></p><p>I'm not going to lie, she has been an ongoing challenge. Just when we think we've got one of her issues under control, it crops up again, randomly and unpredictably, like a weed. Some things, I am sure, will never go away. Her fear of trash trucks and motorcycles seems to be insurmountable. But I'm hoping that we can get most of her other fears/issues under control. Eventually.<br /></p><p>Overcoming her fear of the backyard at night took a long, long time. This week may be the first week we haven't had to wander around the backyard in the dark for an hour or so before Cully would pee before bedtime. We seem to have it down to twenty minutes or less (knock on wood). Although just when I thought we had it licked last time, she walked outside, flopped herself down on the grass, crossed her paws in front of her, and looked at me like she was ready for a long conversation (I wish I had a video of this, it was really funny). Like I said, random and unpredictable. </p><p>Cully still exhibits aggression to other dogs. I'm very tuned into her body language while we are walking, watching for her head to go up and her eyes to laser-focus on a foe. Nine times out of 10 she will walk by other dogs without blinking. The tenth time she goes ballistic. There seems to be no rhyme or reason to the dogs she chooses to hurl insults at: they aren't all small or all big or all bully breeds (like Ray's bĂȘte noir), they are just random dogs on random leashes being walked by random people minding their own business. We are working on this but I feel a bit out of my depth as a dog trainer since I've only had one other dog and he had no issues at all.</p><p>On the upside, Cully seems to like people. I think in her past life she had very little interaction with them since she showed no fear but no real interest either. Now that we walk around the cul-de-sac every day, Cully has gotten to know some of the neighbors and has had a chance to show her sweet side. She has a few fans on the block which I think has boosted her confidence a bit. When I think of how long it took to get her to even walk around the cul-de-sac on a leash and how much progress she has made since then, I feel hopeful that she will continue to improve. She'll never be a confident, calm dog but at least she can be the best Cully she can be. We are working on it. </p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbEdLxMENttYdKBYRsNYmz9agfeBBVKGp1000ESmJpOm-z-4qHvWQByapebfCI3p8bd5PDa0ajMIpVYfT1vpVG4VmJlwLL_C3K9gtShjsLZbAGw4r5DK8Xf-KVQtqozx-9qjEIla7Ott1u/s2048/IMG_1675.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbEdLxMENttYdKBYRsNYmz9agfeBBVKGp1000ESmJpOm-z-4qHvWQByapebfCI3p8bd5PDa0ajMIpVYfT1vpVG4VmJlwLL_C3K9gtShjsLZbAGw4r5DK8Xf-KVQtqozx-9qjEIla7Ott1u/s640/IMG_1675.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hangin' with Li<br /></td></tr></tbody></table> </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p> <br /></p><p><br /></p>Ray the Blind Doghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06736385808454815957noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8991873913041556400.post-39408163933209185532020-06-26T05:26:00.001-07:002020-06-26T05:26:19.399-07:00Well...I don't know what they were up to, but I know it was no good.<br />
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<br />Ray the Blind Doghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06736385808454815957noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8991873913041556400.post-67084062532153820012020-06-07T08:20:00.002-07:002020-06-07T08:20:56.446-07:00Your Wish is My CommandI scooped up Lionel and sat down on the couch next to Cully. Cully was in a frisky mood. She reached over with her jaws agape to grab my arm.<br />
"Don't eat me," I said, "Eat Lionel."<br />
Cully stopped dead and looked at me for a moment then reached over and gnnn gnnn gnnned Lionel on the shoulder, like she was chasing a flea. Lionel stayed relaxed in my arms, unmoving, letting Cully give him a shoulder massage. The hound then flung her head back and opened her mouth wide looking like a lion about to roar. She swung her head forward, put her mouth around Lionel's head then moved to his neck and mouthed him gently.<br />
I laughed. Lionel jumped down and strolled away unfazed.<br />
"Of all the commands for her to pick up quickly," I said to Gregg, "I don't think 'Eat Lionel' would have been my first choice."<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dreaming of eating Lionel</td></tr>
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Ray the Blind Doghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06736385808454815957noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8991873913041556400.post-35130994495556896512020-05-27T06:32:00.000-07:002020-05-27T06:32:54.433-07:006 MonthsWell, actually, it's almost seven months now and our girl-dog, Cully, is still a work in progress. However, huge strides have been made. We no longer have to drive her to the lake every morning for a walk (woohoo). Whereas before her fear kept her from enjoying a ramble 'round the 'hood, now she will willingly hit the sidewalk with us for a daily stroll. Trash trucks and other noisy vehicles continue to be fear-inducing but we try to mitigate the anxiety by leading her up into the middle of the nearest yard so that she is well away from the street and can watch the monsters drive by from a safe distance. (So far, no one has called the cops on us. We are grateful.) Now that she no longer tries to back out of her skin in fear-induced panic, we recently (last week) removed her second leash - the one that was attached to a slip collar - and walk her with only a single lead attached to a harness. <br />
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Cully is still the most comfortable napping on her couch in the house, but now that the weather has warmed a bit, she can be seen (alone! more progress!) in the backyard enjoying a snooze in the sun. She also enjoys a gentle stroll around the garden with her doppelganger sister, Juno, and LOVES to help Lionel in his quest to eradicate all chipmunks from the face of the earth.<br />
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Being a smart dog, Cully is practicing social distancing. We are too, and so is Juno. Lionel, however, is another matter. His huge circle of fans demands his attention and he continues to make his daily rounds to visit the neighbors.<br />
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We hope all of you are staying safe in these trying times and have attached a video of Cully in action. We are not exactly sure what the action was but here ya go.<br />
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<iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/6iedvkqBtX0" width="560"></iframe>Ray the Blind Doghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06736385808454815957noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8991873913041556400.post-82860458499045077842020-02-07T13:42:00.003-08:002020-02-07T13:42:58.699-08:00Comparison, Part 2The only thing that Ray was ever afraid of (at least that I can remember) was the vacuum cleaner. He didn't tremble in fear or yell at it, he just removed himself from its vicinity as quickly as possible. For the first I-don't-know-how-many years, Ray would exit the house and stand in the bushes until I was done (I didn't vacuum much in the winter). Then as he grew braver, he would just go to a different room. Toward the end of his life when he finally conquered his fear, he would lie on the couch and "watch" it. If I bumped his couch as I was vacuuming, he would climb down and move to a chair or the other couch.<br />
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The only thing that Cully is not afraid of is the vacuum cleaner. Although she is a bit nervous when I vacuum, she doesn't head for the hills, doesn't tremble in fear, and doesn't bark at it. I can only tell she is nervous by the fact that she picks up her favorite toys and surrounds herself on the couch with them while I go about my chore. Her other less-favorite toys are left on the floor to fend for themselves.<br />
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<br />Ray the Blind Doghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06736385808454815957noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8991873913041556400.post-36103250733066014372020-01-31T06:34:00.001-08:002020-01-31T06:40:25.585-08:00Three MonthsYesterday was Cully's three month anniversary with us. I'd say it's almost as if she has always been with us, but truthfully that new dog smell still lingers about her, and it's a bit of a thrill whenever I take her out for a spin. I think part of the reason the feeling of special-ness remains is because it was just so difficult to adopt a dog in the first place.<br />
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So at the three month mark this is what we have; <br />
...a rocket dog who races around the yard so fast that I have to hold my breath while watching her. It is really really really hard to adjust to a dog that can see, never mind one that can see at the speed of light. The paradox is, although she seems to love being outside, she is still mostly afraid to go out alone. The one, single thing that got her through the dog door of death without a person to keep her company, was a probable raccoon in the yard behind us. She spent the better part of an hour jumping up the fence trying to get to whatever-it-was. It was only when she started her basso profundo serenading that I had to bring her in for the day.<br />
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...a dog that sleeps as much as the cats. This dog is a couch potato. Unlike Ray who liked his daily game of keep away after breakfast and dinner, and liked to poke around the backyard looking for stuff, Cully likes a nice nap. She also likes a nap after her morning walk. That nap lasts all day until her afternoon ramble around the cul-de-sac with Lionel, quickly followed by dinner and her ecstatic greeting of Gregg as he arrives home from work. All of that wears her out terribly so she needs a nap until she goes to bed.<br />
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...a dog who is always excited to go for a walk but, four out of five times, only gets half a block before fear takes over and she wants to go home so that we can drive to the lake. There, she still has fears which manifest themselves in foamy drool that stretches elastically until she shakes her head to whip it off her mouth. More often than not, all it does is wrap around her muzzle. I bring extra Kleenex with me wherever we go.<br />
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...a dog that is pawsy. I'm a third degree black belt and have been punched in the face more by this dog than I had been in 12 years of taekwondo. She would make a great martial artist.<br />
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...a dog that doesn't seem to like other dogs. Although we were told that Cully got along with all the other dogs at the shelter and they all liked to play with her, we have yet to find one that she will tolerate. I'm guessing it is part of her fear response. We'll see how this changes over time.<br />
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...a dog that has gone from a quivering bowl of jello when any truck went up the street to one that ignores mostly everything but the trash trucks. Those get fearsome growls and barking. Since trash trucks go up the street every single day (some of them before seven in the morning) we are diligently working on getting her to ignore them too. <br />
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...a dog that is still trying to get Lionel to play. Hilarious.<br />
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On a side note, I always kind of wondered how many miles I walked with Ray over the years so I decided to keep a walking journal (until I get bored with it). So far, Cully and I have walked 172 miles.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSg58EH2nW9lj8WKfhOHhpbOI-g8zN8bQzSEFkT5JXv1A9T6ik89U4tHNWr-OyEQ9hvNE-Q6z6ibg0lOkB67N1twaFNps9FCUZINgeww-pOzRPYF1YTf8pTfLjgy6gMFA7zp6x5n8TR_rS/s1600/fullsizeoutput_12b2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1260" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSg58EH2nW9lj8WKfhOHhpbOI-g8zN8bQzSEFkT5JXv1A9T6ik89U4tHNWr-OyEQ9hvNE-Q6z6ibg0lOkB67N1twaFNps9FCUZINgeww-pOzRPYF1YTf8pTfLjgy6gMFA7zp6x5n8TR_rS/s320/fullsizeoutput_12b2.jpeg" width="251" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cully, have you seen my roving?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWlmMnqav0k0xbkDHtIzhvBeCdaZP0D2RwxOsdWRREZHG8ftGHGu6CUZLsu93926Wm-oXAe5dOhchr88PmUtlBD_h5znUNXJFfKvA7j-sP0uOo6DRUHcrGHPBH5ugCEb0YC2O2hjLqvoKi/s1600/IMG_1083.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWlmMnqav0k0xbkDHtIzhvBeCdaZP0D2RwxOsdWRREZHG8ftGHGu6CUZLsu93926Wm-oXAe5dOhchr88PmUtlBD_h5znUNXJFfKvA7j-sP0uOo6DRUHcrGHPBH5ugCEb0YC2O2hjLqvoKi/s320/IMG_1083.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What's roving?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjitOnPvr-dkj_ERNBF4RWC6hV6H894IQlPVMwM6emr2XOQm48eMusmd6qs-aaoDdp5EIZUPAxBklOvbPhNcv5pm4U_EQRVQAkwddbIVnlExeGmH4YEunpJ46TDJlXyrC9dvvLuoybTSSnK/s1600/IMG_1084.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjitOnPvr-dkj_ERNBF4RWC6hV6H894IQlPVMwM6emr2XOQm48eMusmd6qs-aaoDdp5EIZUPAxBklOvbPhNcv5pm4U_EQRVQAkwddbIVnlExeGmH4YEunpJ46TDJlXyrC9dvvLuoybTSSnK/s320/IMG_1084.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Feels like a pillow to me.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgofnBhb0dKdvI_I9QxbCu319uEcL1iY8EDZEhGJH4MDZkVDPz3pdA-HpxSllY35tqfjoTdFYx8TCDB5qczbTyp3cgfJASJK41AVo2DqiOSe6IOIxkNX5AMKAww8mkr_4WLOliZz4u0et5O/s1600/IMG_1086.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgofnBhb0dKdvI_I9QxbCu319uEcL1iY8EDZEhGJH4MDZkVDPz3pdA-HpxSllY35tqfjoTdFYx8TCDB5qczbTyp3cgfJASJK41AVo2DqiOSe6IOIxkNX5AMKAww8mkr_4WLOliZz4u0et5O/s320/IMG_1086.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ok, so now I know. Not a pillow.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqo9sbfkfTgf-V0eQdW70stA55OWarYavS6GsCEqwYOWjVFawVSSgH815yXrD4jNyQVORzdDypV1YT09JpT7XKRijye1bhF5SgRHuqMIfR4tOzlam8Aiarud2nnXbuYjoid-FCzqf8erSm/s1600/IMG_1104.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqo9sbfkfTgf-V0eQdW70stA55OWarYavS6GsCEqwYOWjVFawVSSgH815yXrD4jNyQVORzdDypV1YT09JpT7XKRijye1bhF5SgRHuqMIfR4tOzlam8Aiarud2nnXbuYjoid-FCzqf8erSm/s320/IMG_1104.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Guess I'll have to use my toys instead.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />Ray the Blind Doghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06736385808454815957noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8991873913041556400.post-6079980849653040712020-01-10T09:33:00.000-08:002020-01-10T09:33:55.981-08:00CommunicationLionel is one of the stranger cats I've ever owned (I've had cats since I was about 8). He fears nothing, is dumb as a box of highly intelligent rocks, and clearly believes deep down in his soul that he is a dog. But, like people who research their ancestry, find out they are descended from one nationality, and attach themselves to their roots without ever learning a line of their ancestral language, Lionel speaks not a word of dog.<br />
<br />
This did not appear to be a problem with Lionel and Ray interactions. Since Ray couldn't see that Lionel was not a dog, Ray obviously thought that Lionel was a dog. Their communication consisted of Ray, every day at three o'clock, standing over Lionel blasting him with the doghorn while Lionel laid there basking in the sound vibrations. Although not immediately apparent to observers why this happened, they both enjoyed this exchange and Ray clearly thought his pack-mate was a very good listener. <br />
<br />
Now that he has a new dog, Lionel's lack of language skills has become a bit of an issue. Because Cully <i>can</i> see and wants to play with her new, slightly-odd-looking dog. When Cully goes into a spastic play bow, Lionel arches and puffs. When she butts him with her nose, he bops her. I can see Lionel is very confused by these messages because his other dog never communicated in this way but it in no way interferes with his attachment to Cully. He still wants to go on walks with her (the afternoon walk consists of a stroll around the cul-de-sac with both of them while Juno waits at the end of the driveway watching to make sure everyone gets home safely), likes sleeping with her on the couch in the evening, and doesn't even seem to mind (much) that he is constantly being stepped on by his bigger sister.<br />
<br />
As for Cully, she is much better at learning a new language than Lionel. Although she can't actually <i>speak</i> cat, she can clearly understand a few words. When Juno starts making her porpoise noises because there is something being prepared in the kitchen that she is excited about, Cully magically appears. I have every confidence that our new dog will be fluent in cat in no time. If she ever starts to speak it, however, I will immediately be contacting Ripley's.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQitmuXTTy5g_CF7Da9Uk4OLgk673L3c7Uyg00SZ0PyThyphenhyphenOCKTlO2cRds_jBNOGycIfQdXk4UnD7cSuTVdm4TvDwsNsK_RqdS5CckP9gHwepoaGjo0NjTo_XPLZfBTnM0ix8u3310kX_kU/s1600/IMG_0887.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQitmuXTTy5g_CF7Da9Uk4OLgk673L3c7Uyg00SZ0PyThyphenhyphenOCKTlO2cRds_jBNOGycIfQdXk4UnD7cSuTVdm4TvDwsNsK_RqdS5CckP9gHwepoaGjo0NjTo_XPLZfBTnM0ix8u3310kX_kU/s320/IMG_0887.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our two dogs</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />Ray the Blind Doghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06736385808454815957noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8991873913041556400.post-84637776298744352362020-01-01T13:24:00.000-08:002020-01-01T13:24:30.217-08:00ComparisonsIt's funny how bringing home a new dog makes you think of your old dog. Now that we have Cully, I think of Ray all the time. There is a constant mental comparison going on. Not in a bad way just a "huh" kind of way. Either Cully does something just like Ray resulting in an "Oh, Ray used to do that!" moment, or she does something totally the opposite which makes me think, "Well, Ray never used to do THAT."<br />
<br />
Every day, for every tiny detail, comparisons are made. Cully is incredibly excited at mealtime and finishes her meal in a gulp whereas Ray would politely wait just outside the kitchen and then slowly and methodically eat his bowl of gruel. Sometimes he even finished it. Cully looks out windows, which I find fascinating. Ray only ever "looked" out the front door. Cully likes only the couches; Ray liked variety, sleeping on the couches and the chairs and the floor. Cully steps on Lionel without even noticing; Ray rarely, if ever, stepped on a cat. Cully steals fabric softener sheets to roll around on, so did Ray. After a big show of chewing a vegetable, Cully either spits out a big glob of whatever or actually EATS a veg. Ray would never let a vegetable even TOUCH his lips. Cully is unsure around children; Ray could not contain his excitement. Cully is afraid of everything; Ray was fearless. Cully loves her new brain game (Christmas present) just as much as Ray loved his (brain games were his raison d'ĂȘtre).<br />
<br />
Then there are the physical comparisons. Cully's ears are longer than Ray's. She doesn't have his stamina. Her voice is deeper and more melodious than Ray's (but let's face it, there will never be another fog horn crossed with a seal). Cully's legs are shorter but somehow she takes up more room on a couch than Ray. Cully doesn't have the dancing eyebrows that Ray had or his head tilt (I really miss these), but she has a tail wag that can't be beat. Cully is paws-y, she likes to touch her humans; Ray was careful where he put his paws.<br />
<br />
<br />
The comparisons go on and on. I can't stop myself from making them but they make me realize something: We love Cully just as much as we loved Ray. She is more "special needs" than he ever was but it doesn't matter, I am grateful that she is here and that she reminds me every day of our amazing, 'gone but not forgotten' blind boy.<br />
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<br />Ray the Blind Doghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06736385808454815957noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8991873913041556400.post-38309638572786749082019-11-17T06:50:00.000-08:002019-11-17T06:50:27.381-08:00CullyHeadnote* (I don't really plan on posting to this blog any more. But then I didn't
plan on posting at all after Ray died. Since I'm obviously incapable of
cutting Ray's followers off without a word, I'm going to post this
Cully update. I honestly can't say if there will be more or not. I like to keep myself in the dark about what I'm going to do next.)<br />
<br />
Cully's paperwork said that she was picked up in February in a rural Virginia county, emaciated and in heat. Apparently she was immediately spayed and sent to Northern Virginia. When we adopted her, she had been at the Humane Society for eight long months. Although she was listed by the Society as a 35 pound "hound mix," in actuality she was a 58 pound Treeing Walker Coonhound (if she is a "mix," she is one hound mixed with another).<br />
<br />
Cully came with her own bottle of Prozac and a big bag of fear. When we got her home it was raining so we took her in through the kitchen entrance. She was terrified to enter so, with one of us at her head and one at the rear, sweet talking the whole time, we coaxed/dragged/pushed her through the door and into the house. Lionel was interestedly watching from the top of the cat tree. Juno took one look and ran for the stairs then stopped on the landing to see what was going to happen next.<br />
<br />
We let Cully off her leash, dried her with towels, and let her go. She paced nervously from the living room to the TV room, stopping at the kitchen door every time to wag her tail at Gregg who was fixing dinner. She showed absolutely no desire to go any further than those two rooms so I brought out one of Ray's old beds and positioned it at the end of the couch in the TV room. She went to stand on it for a second as if to briefly familiarize herself with her new safe spot, then resumed her pacing. I noticed that the sight and sound of the TV was freaking her out so turned the sound to murmur. Gregg and I went about our business and left Cully alone to de-stress, telling her what a good girl she was at odd moments. Based on her house fears, I don't think Cully had ever been inside one before that night.<br />
<br />
By 10:00 Cully had worn herself out and retired to her bed. Not knowing if she was housebroken or not, I brought down a blanket and pillow and settled in on the couch for the night. But Cully slept through. Gregg and I traded couch duty for three days but it was unnecessary. Cully slept. For most of the next five days Cully slept, waking up only long enough for us to coax/drag/push her out the front door or back door for walks or to pee.<br />
<br />
Over the first eight days we weaned her off the Prozac as instructed by the Humane Society personnel; two pills for the first five days, one pill for 3 days after. By day six, Cully's personality started to emerge.<br />
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We have had so many firsts in the last two weeks that I can't even keep up; the first time she ventured into the spinning room and the laundry room, the first time she went up the stairs to the landing, the first time we didn't have to drag her in or out the door, the first time she discovered that she liked the couch (she has not been back to her bed since), the first time she treed Lionel (he was asking for it, he charged her), the first time she howled (holey moley she has a deep voice!), the first time she jumped up into the car by herself (a major celebration was had by all), the first time she used the dog door of death and didn't perish, the first time a truck went up our street and didn't turn her into a trembling bowl of jello, the first time she discovered where we slept and joined us in the morning (followed closely by Juno, Lionel was already there. We had a snuggle fest.)<br />
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So here we are at two weeks, four days, the owners of a delightful hound girl who already knows her name, wags her tail so hard it hurts, and is working on getting over her fears one-by-one. <br />
<br />
What follows is a list of he things that scared her but that she has overcome<br />
<ul>
<li>going into the house</li>
<li>leaving the house</li>
<li>TV</li>
<li>kitchen</li>
<li>refrigerator</li>
<li>cars passing us on walks</li>
<li>the backyard</li>
<li>leaves </li>
<li>getting into the car</li>
<li>getting out of the car </li>
</ul>
The following is a list of things that still make her nervous <br />
<ul>
<li>wind</li>
<li>lawn equipment</li>
<li>helicopters</li>
<li>wheeled things in general (bikes, strollers, carts)</li>
<li>vans </li>
<li>trucks</li>
<li>kids </li>
</ul>
The following is a list of things that terrify her and make walking really scary <br />
<ul>
<li>motorcycles</li>
<li>the trash truck </li>
</ul>
<br />
Footnote* Juno really likes her new dog. At first, Lionel was excited to have a dog again, but ever since he was chased up the tree, he is reserving judgement. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvgwu5lsfV0jWl_2im4KeBgJSe_fhcIIyqAlsgJeVGWpG5FUOYyaXioIKUQci14CXtDsSBdwqrM-0lqi0HqFeh2lYy8myL2dBI-19oeeX520QcH_t6x1tlN7Fxih0vK70QYUL52QqDH3ic/s1600/IMG_0672.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvgwu5lsfV0jWl_2im4KeBgJSe_fhcIIyqAlsgJeVGWpG5FUOYyaXioIKUQci14CXtDsSBdwqrM-0lqi0HqFeh2lYy8myL2dBI-19oeeX520QcH_t6x1tlN7Fxih0vK70QYUL52QqDH3ic/s320/IMG_0672.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is really scary. Do we really have to go out?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSqSoW_t45Kz7p8Kr8mfx1LWMI_7pxbrqmdRCAf_LdOk-7OgNs7JXXhkAy5gSvmGcQN00JWT6h_CziLwRd-ywScatchm6B4fAZDNSD298CzzyGaRuQ-b0NJi_OqHWkxL3UDZ2Lz6Rx02jQ/s1600/IMG_0738.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSqSoW_t45Kz7p8Kr8mfx1LWMI_7pxbrqmdRCAf_LdOk-7OgNs7JXXhkAy5gSvmGcQN00JWT6h_CziLwRd-ywScatchm6B4fAZDNSD298CzzyGaRuQ-b0NJi_OqHWkxL3UDZ2Lz6Rx02jQ/s320/IMG_0738.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ok, maybe this isn't so bad.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpdGRwOS41EL7I6Qwryx6KpCWVi0CvznNyFXaJWAmr_k0fI91Bvg6EJPSsQrVnsCydjKOle3JNTjDxWptdr5qiKz_NvvsrmatMZlcZ_JY86elftPi09hqb8770QKbs5LHr2JV9VBZ7pPLq/s1600/fullsizeoutput_1269.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1356" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpdGRwOS41EL7I6Qwryx6KpCWVi0CvznNyFXaJWAmr_k0fI91Bvg6EJPSsQrVnsCydjKOle3JNTjDxWptdr5qiKz_NvvsrmatMZlcZ_JY86elftPi09hqb8770QKbs5LHr2JV9VBZ7pPLq/s320/fullsizeoutput_1269.jpeg" width="271" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Couches are a marvelous thing.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIb8JnKBRPxga6q4z4v859-YA8Rz-YbL-GgaVrIkCcGkyfao_TigsHngAFbruSEaRez99nL1xxDgoDJgU69gaZL1i3KTrrYgth-lCJU075jsuKRrhnbQ4WFCCmBcFIqTZLRZd7AhDtD1JS/s1600/IMG_0725.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIb8JnKBRPxga6q4z4v859-YA8Rz-YbL-GgaVrIkCcGkyfao_TigsHngAFbruSEaRez99nL1xxDgoDJgU69gaZL1i3KTrrYgth-lCJU075jsuKRrhnbQ4WFCCmBcFIqTZLRZd7AhDtD1JS/s320/IMG_0725.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ahhhh. My favorite.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY5VATCtPDdjZ7SOc7eNf4lvhl2srw1KIdqRzr0FeJczSQhMRgfD-hL_2IMSG2-qV03E0TuD8tdNyJ0ApTRO8kQz4XP12gla11QMEN9pzvjpbOvPjrP0ogyfKATUZJvq6NORdXyBzTjWOH/s1600/IMG_0749.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY5VATCtPDdjZ7SOc7eNf4lvhl2srw1KIdqRzr0FeJczSQhMRgfD-hL_2IMSG2-qV03E0TuD8tdNyJ0ApTRO8kQz4XP12gla11QMEN9pzvjpbOvPjrP0ogyfKATUZJvq6NORdXyBzTjWOH/s320/IMG_0749.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I claim this human as my own.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYjjwwryaQV-FqnyUUJimJt5Zcqn8sWvwiGOfmcDk3xzN3lhaIst-QYcjOxWCF1bkFpIVji7-ulfYuZKvX2zjwh8DqVW7kqhtuDYy2JLkgHLapO9MPkYHxoxLbYLPyE3IjJl4iS1_hw16F/s1600/IMG_0768.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYjjwwryaQV-FqnyUUJimJt5Zcqn8sWvwiGOfmcDk3xzN3lhaIst-QYcjOxWCF1bkFpIVji7-ulfYuZKvX2zjwh8DqVW7kqhtuDYy2JLkgHLapO9MPkYHxoxLbYLPyE3IjJl4iS1_hw16F/s320/IMG_0768.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I claim this human too. He doth be mine.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_0dg2Z9RU-oVKJ8gaoiAx94iDGMO6JUOx1zVGWAoqu0qcVjQwc04gcGgHphyS9ZKJcYq1smyLYKLO5UpqRaY2JtfG68caMguD3vtGLPdihMFtTeBg0JYHYM0Sm1G9oqcEhmBfF07oPHbR/s1600/IMG_0755.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_0dg2Z9RU-oVKJ8gaoiAx94iDGMO6JUOx1zVGWAoqu0qcVjQwc04gcGgHphyS9ZKJcYq1smyLYKLO5UpqRaY2JtfG68caMguD3vtGLPdihMFtTeBg0JYHYM0Sm1G9oqcEhmBfF07oPHbR/s320/IMG_0755.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kinda liking this spot. Perfect for bone-chewing.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo4JOt3c72LPdBfuD6hI7JLmGklIGJ3HOYGV2uY3FVsG5t9S3d0ubvQxMIYAzmFoNpc1YjypjtaZ9dR20Tb5NVHROIVQT6NtPJa4r_ZyC3k-iO66A9fh9zynFFrczyj3vpNFDO84rR9Fu3/s1600/IMG_0777.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo4JOt3c72LPdBfuD6hI7JLmGklIGJ3HOYGV2uY3FVsG5t9S3d0ubvQxMIYAzmFoNpc1YjypjtaZ9dR20Tb5NVHROIVQT6NtPJa4r_ZyC3k-iO66A9fh9zynFFrczyj3vpNFDO84rR9Fu3/s320/IMG_0777.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mmmmmm. Couches.</td></tr>
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<br />Ray the Blind Doghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06736385808454815957noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8991873913041556400.post-57229396252972102152019-10-31T09:45:00.005-07:002019-10-31T09:45:55.008-07:00A New ChapterSaturday night, a facebook friend of mine posted a link to a dog at the Humane Society. She had "hearted" the posting so I took a look.<br />
<br />
It said that the "hound mix" was one of their longest residents but that they didn't know why as she was such a sweet thing. I recognized the photo of the dog from when I started my search back in April so I knew that she had been there at least that long. She was three and a half years old back then, so close to four now. Nowhere did it say if she was cat-friendly. Feeling rather hopeless but knowing that I had nothing to lose, I filled out the online application and sent it off.<br />
<br />
The next day there was a reply. They wanted me to call my vet and give them permission to respond to the Humane Society's questions. They didn't want to talk to a receptionist, they wanted a specific vet name. (I had been to the vet recently and told the receptionists my dog-adoption woes. They assured me that they had my back, then told me a story about a vet that had applied to adopt a cat from a local rescue and had been denied. If a veterinarian isn't qualified to adopt a cat, I don't know who is.) So bright and early Monday morning I was on the phone to the vet doing as the Humane Society asked. By the end of the day they got back to me with a request for me to make an appointment to meet the dog along with instructions on how to find their farm.<br />
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Feeling more hopeful than I had since my third adoption attempt, I went shopping for new dog-walking clothes. I was not quite hopeful enough, however, to buy anything for a new dog. I should have known better.<br />
<br />
Gregg and I had a late afternoon appointment yesterday. Last night we came home with a scared girl-hound named Ellie May. Since every girl-hound I have ever met was named Ellie May, we have been calling her Cully. She is totally in love with Gregg. And Lionel is totally smitten with his new dog.<br />
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Life is good.<br />
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Ray the Blind Doghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06736385808454815957noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8991873913041556400.post-38947155111187510272019-10-28T12:47:00.001-07:002019-10-28T12:47:49.213-07:00Four and FiveAt the end of September I attended a fiber festival with my BFF and Ray's old favorites, Caleb and his family. Caleb, who had been interestedly following my attempts at adopting a dog, asked how the search was going. I gave him the latest. Caleb was not surprised at the stories. He had heard similar from people he knew who had tried to adopt dogs.<br />
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"We passed a dog rescue about 10 minutes from here," he said while searching his phone for the name of the place, "Here it is."<br />
I could see him scrolling. He turned the phone towards me and showed me a dog.<br />
"How 'bout this one?"<br />
I grinned and said, "Forward it to Greggie."<br />
I pulled out my own phone and called my husband.<br />
"Hey, Caleb is sending you a link to a dog. See what you think, and if you like him, fill out the application."<br />
Gregg agreed to take a look.<br />
That evening when I got home, I asked Gregg what he thought of the dog. He told me he had put in an application. I waited until the next day to call the rescue.<br />
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"I have your application right in front of me," said the woman on the other end of the line, "But the dog you have applied for is not cat friendly. We have others who are, if you are interested."<br />
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I asked what their adoption process entailed and was told that all members of the household were required to come and meet the dog. Then all members of the household were required to go home and think about it for a couple of days. If, after a couple of days, everyone still wanted the dog, they call the rescue to arrange for the dog to be brought to them. Someone would bring the dog to the house, do a home check, and then if the dog agreed, he was adopted. The whole process took about a week. Being so recently burned by a rescue that gave my dog away while I was following their 48 hour rule, I made a conscious decision to not proceed any further. However, undeterred, I continued to look at dogs.<br />
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A couple days later, I found a hound at a rescue that I hadn't tried yet. I was encouraged to see that in their descriptions of dogs, they encouraged dog park use as a form of exercise for their higher-energy, dog-friendly dogs. But the hound was a "courtesy post" for a collie rescue that had gone south to rescue a collie and had felt obliged to bring an emaciated hound back home with them. I then checked out the collie rescue website which said that it could be up to 10 days after an application had been submitted before someone from their rescue would get in contact. Since I had been waiting months to adopt, an additional 10 days didn't seem that bad, so I filled out the paperwork and pushed the button. Ten days later I got a call.<br />
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The woman, a collie fan, was doing the phone interviews for the rescue. She told me that there were multiple applicants for the hound, that she wasn't the one who made the final decision, and that she did not get to know who was the lucky recipient at the end of the process. We had a nice time chatting about dogs. We were hitting it off. I liked her. She was normal. I had a vague feeling that things were going ok. The questions seemed pretty reasonable to me. Then everything came to a screeching halt. The Dog Door of Death entered the room. I could tell at once from the one syllable "Oh" that it was the show-stopper.<br />
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"Well," I said, "In my defense, I would like you to know that a LOT of dogs die each year in house fires. I never had to worry about my dog because if the fire alarms ever went off, Ray was the first one out of the house. If you were in his way, you better look out because he would knock you over to get out that dog door."<br />
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The woman was interested. She had never thought of it before, but as she stressed to me again, she did not make the final decision. She would pass on the information though. She wished me good luck and rang off.<br />
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The last time I looked (today), the hound was still listed on their website. Apparently, I wasn't the only one that didn't measure up enough to adopt the poor emaciated girl dog.<br />
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<br />Ray the Blind Doghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06736385808454815957noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8991873913041556400.post-20292111521083650972019-10-11T08:09:00.000-07:002019-10-11T14:06:28.357-07:00Third Time the Charm?I didn't wait to start looking at dogs again. As a matter of fact, I went to the local shelter in Wisconsin just in case the perfect dog happened to live there. And I scanned our local shelter each day to make sure no perfect dogs slipped through my fingers. On the day before I was to return home, one popped up on the shelter website. I sent Gregg the link along with the message that maybe we could stop at the shelter on the way home from the airport and take a look. But by the time I had deplaned, all I wanted to do was go home. So we skipped the shelter and by the end of the day the dog had been adopted.<br />
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I had been looking for a dog at the county shelter for months but any suitable dogs were adopted quite quickly. The same 10 dogs had been there all summer long; the 10 were pitbulls, elderly dogs, a "nippy" dog, a couple that were dog (and cat) aggressive, and one "escape artist." So I decided to expand my search. I looked at dogs in other counties, the more rural ones that were about an hour's drive away.<br />
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Almost immediately I found a dog that spoke to me. He was a stray that had been quite emaciated when found, was timid, and afraid of cats. He was at an SPCA but there was no online application. I called them and was informed that they required adopters to come to their location to fill out the application and then they had to wait 48 hours while the application was processed. I asked if they had any restrictions on crates and dog doors but they assured me that they did not. I decided to give it a shot.<br />
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I drove the hour or so to the site and asked to see the inappropriately named "Valor". (I'd call him Val I decided in my head). The employee brought me to his cage and tried to coax him out. Poor Val was terrified. He cringed past the cages and outside to the run. The handler turned him loose. Val ran back and forth across the field, giddy with freedom. He stayed well out of our way, and finally stopped for a snack at a lush patch of grass on the opposite side of the chain link fence. He bent his neck to try to grab a bite but the grass was just out of reach. Val craned his neck farther and farther. Soon he was standing on his head quite determined to get some grass. I was entranced by his goofiness. I asked where to get an application and went to fill it out. The handler stayed behind trying to catch a hound that was joyfully zooming around her. I grinned.<br />
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There were no other applicants for Val when I submitted my application and I was told that there had been only one in the three weeks that he was there. That one had been rejected. I felt somewhat confident that he would be ours.<br />
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Forty-eight hours later, I called the shelter. Val had been adopted already. I was stunned. I asked why my application had been rejected. The woman who answered the phone didn't know, she transferred me to another person who could give me an answer. I asked again why my application had been rejected. I needed to know in case it was a booby trap that I hadn't thought about. It wasn't that my application had been rejected, it was because someone had come in to adopt a dog and had brought their own dog along with them. Their dog and Val had gotten along so well that the SPCA had given Val to them. No 48 hour waiting period required. They thought that the people were a "better fit" for Val. I asked how she could possibly know if they were a better fit. No one had talked to me or asked me any questions. How could they possibly know? Why was I rejected? She had no answer. I asked if I could adopt one of their other dogs, an elderly one with a large open wound on his leg.<br />
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"Of course you can!" the woman replied happily.<br />
"So, I'm not good enough for the dog that I want," I replied. "But I'm good enough for the one you want me to have." She was incoherently trying to respond when I hung up on her.<br />
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I cried the rest of the day (I cry every time I think about it). Since I now needed to own a dog in order to adopt a dog, my chances of adopting seemed even more remote than before.<br />
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<br />Ray the Blind Doghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06736385808454815957noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8991873913041556400.post-87472088755546724732019-09-26T06:20:00.000-07:002019-09-26T06:20:21.098-07:00Second TryI waited two months after being rejected by the dog "rescue" before trying to adopt again. I talked to everyone I could about "rescues" in our area and soon realized that each "rescue" had their own ideas about what was acceptable and what wasn't and since there was no way to tell which was which, I wouldn't even be able to lie appropriately.<br />
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I spent a lot of time looking at dogs online and scanning adoption applications for potential booby-trap questions. I realized pretty quickly that I was so scarred from my experience that I started to think ALL questions were booby-traps.<br />
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"Have you ever used a retractable leash?" (Well, yeah. Ray tripped me all the time when I was using a short one. He liked to be way out front. Or way out back sniffing something while I walked on. Is a retractable leash a deal-breaker? Is it like the Dog Door of Death, as my BFF sarcastically calls it now?)<br />
"Will you take your dog to a dog park?" (Depends on if he/she gets along with other dogs. Ray LOVED the dog park right up until the moment that he didn't. Are you a "rescue" that thinks dog parks are the root of all evil?)<br />
"Would you hire a dog walker?" (Probably, if I were incapacitated and couldn't walk and Gregg couldn't do it and I couldn't rope one of my neighbors into doing it. Is that the right answer? Are dog walkers a BAD thing? I don't know.)<br />
"What kind of dog behavior concerns you?" (How do I even know until something happens that is concerning. Should I admit that I'm concerned or pretend that dogs never do anything that concern a person? What is the right answer to this?)<br />
"Why do you want a dog?" (So many reasons, but not for dog fighting. Is that what you really want to know?)<br />
"Where will your dog sleep?" (Wherever he/she wants as long as it's not with us, unless it's a tiny dog, that might be okay. Am I supposed to say that they will only sleep in a crate behind a locked Dog Door of Death?)<br />
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Some applications I rejected immediately because of the length (6-8 pages was a bit much) or because of the intrusive nature of their questions.<br />
"What is your annual income?" (Really??????)<br />
"Occupation." (I can't even begin to know why they need this info unless maybe I sell dogs to labs for evil experimentation or run a dog-fighting ring, in which cases I wouldn't be likely to tell them)<br />
"Name of your employer and how long you have worked for them." (sigh)<br />
"How long will you go on vacation each year." (This one really raised a red flag for me. Once they know your yearly income, your address, what kind of house you live in - another of their questions - "Check one: Area around your home: Rural, Suburban, Urban," you're really a sitting duck for thieves.)<br />
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Some of the questions were scientific:<br />
"What causes heartworm in dogs?" (I know it's transmitted by mosquitos but do they want more detailed info than that? Because I don't really know.)<br />
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One of the questions kind of stumped me:<br />
"Do you or your home have a weight limit?" (ummmm, yes? Is that the right answer? I don't want to become overweight so I set myself a limit. Not sure about my house though. As far as I know it's not sentient. Is that what you want to know?)<br />
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Finally, I searched on "Special Needs Dogs." Maybe "rescues" trying to find homes for "Special Needs Dogs" didn't care if my home had a weight limit. I almost immediately found the perfect dog. It was an actual person trying to rehome their perfect dog that loved kids, cats, people, and other dogs. I read the description and found that her owner loved her dog but didn't have enough time to give the "coonhound mix" the exercise she needed. Nowhere was there a mention of the "Special Need." So I sent an email.<br />
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The "Special Need" turned out to be exercise. Dog was between two and three years of age, and like Ray at that age, could go and go. Her mom was a nurse who worked long days. We set up a time for Dog's mom to bring her by for a meet-and-greet.<br />
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Both Gregg and I loved the little (compared to Ray) dog. She was charming. The one big problem was, I could tell that her mom loved Dog. Despite the fact that I had told myself I wouldn't try to talk her out of it, I found myself giving advice to Dog's mom. I told her that Ray became a different dog between the age of two and three. He really calmed down. He still needed exercise but maybe she could hire a dog walker (are they bad things? I'm still uncertain.) for an hour a day. That would really help. Dog's mom's circumstances were going to change in the next year? A year goes by really fast. Maybe the dog walker could take up the slack for the year. Then I asked her, "If you decide to give her to me and I'm standing on the curb holding her leash and you drive away and look in the rearview mirror and see her straining at the leash to go home with you, will you be able to pull the trigger and drive away?" She admitted that she didn't know. I had an upcoming short trip to Wisconsin. I'd be back the week after next, she could think about it and let us know after I got back.<br />
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I got the email while I was still in Wisconsin. Dog's mom couldn't pull the trigger. She was keeping Dog. Gregg and I were both disappointed and happy at the same time.<br />
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<br />Ray the Blind Doghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06736385808454815957noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8991873913041556400.post-76066969584112058832019-07-15T07:33:00.000-07:002019-07-15T07:33:33.745-07:00Post ScriptA few weeks ago I tried to adopt a dog from a local rescue - I've always felt that it's important to honor a past pet by rescuing another. After sending in the application, I was given a phone interview and quizzed about my answers. We didn't make it all the way through the questions before I was told rather tartly that it wasn't going to work out. I could feel it coming in the lectures I was given. I was considered an irresponsible pet owner for not agreeing to crate my dog and keep him in a locked cage behind a locked dog door while I was out of the house.<br />
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I was stunned and angry. And then I was depressed. So I went back and read Ray's old blogs. And I cried and cried. But I laughed even more. I read about all the stuff that Ray got up to and into when he was a youngster (the <a href="http://www.raytheblinddog.com/2010/12/shhhhhhh-dont-tell-gregg.html" target="_blank">shoe tassels</a>, <a href="http://www.raytheblinddog.com/2009/07/today-started-out-good.html" target="_blank">the yarn</a>, <a href="http://www.raytheblinddog.com/2009/08/obserraytions.html" target="_blank">the toilet bowl brush and other miscellanies</a>) and all the adventures we had together. I probably was irresponsible in some cases (<a href="http://www.raytheblinddog.com/2012/05/close-call.html" target="_blank">walking him off a cliff </a>was not a shining moment), but I did my best for my blind hound, despite the fact that I knew nothing about dogs, and quite frankly, I wouldn't change a thing. If I had crated him, as lectured, he wouldn't have had the opportunity to steal the <a href="http://www.raytheblinddog.com/2011/12/good-news-and-impromptu-party.html" target="_blank">prosciutto/mozzarella </a>log at every party or do so many of the things that made his dark existence interesting.<br />
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Ray had fun. And I had fun watching him as he showed the world how to tackle life and live it to the fullest, despite the danger of an unlocked dog door and a non-existent crate.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jan 21, 2019. Ray's last day on this earth</td></tr>
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Ray the Blind Doghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06736385808454815957noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8991873913041556400.post-51596494399968145862019-06-25T06:49:00.000-07:002019-06-25T06:49:36.446-07:00ReincarnationI think Ray has been reincarnated as a female crow.<br />
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A couple of weeks ago Crow landed on the front porch while Gregg and I were chillin'. I could tell by the way she tilted her head to the side while I chatted with her that she was very interested in all that I had to say. And although she looks nothing like him, the head tilt reminded me of Ray. A few days later Crow returned. I put a few pieces of cat food on the porch railing and while Crow didn't let me get too near, neither did she take flight. She waited until I had taken my seat a few feet away before she hopped to the food and picked up each piece, obviously saving it in her crop. As soon as she had it all, Crow flew. She returned a few minutes later with her significant other. I fed them both. One day she stopped by with her gigantic baby, furiously fluttering its wings wanting to be fed. Crow obliged with the pieces of cat food and I felt a bit bad knowing that I had created a welfare state.<br />
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Now, Crow stops by several times each day. I feed her some cat food pieces and, for dessert, a piece of apple. As soon as she gets the apple, knowing that no more food is coming her way, she takes flight. When I leave the house, if she is nearby, she follows me around the yard flying from tree to tree. If I'm inside and she can't see me, she sits on the pergola or the porch railing and calls me. Sometimes she'll fly from one to the other to look in the windows to see where I am.<br />
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Crow has a lot in common with Ray. She's really smart, there's the head-tilt thing when I talk, and she loves cat food. The only thing they don't share is Crow comes when I call. Something Ray would never do unless I told him he was "going to miss it." Ray never wanted to miss anything, even if he didn't know what "it" was.<br />
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I just love the thought of Ray as a crow soaring above the trees with a bird's eye view of everything. I hope it's him, flying free.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crow</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hangin' out on the porch</td></tr>
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<br />Ray the Blind Doghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06736385808454815957noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8991873913041556400.post-80814989962401840792019-02-05T05:39:00.002-08:002019-02-05T05:39:28.397-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Ray the Blind Doghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06736385808454815957noreply@blogger.com5