If he ever got loose from that leash I often wondered this past summer if I'd ever see him again until winter make his way back home. Maybe not as he showed unusual traits of digging into the hill out back, first I figured maybe he was trying to dig his way back to Alaska, or Siberia, depending upon which Husky breed he came from, I was just waiting until he decided to take either a left or right turn in direction to make a determination. Instead as he dug, he'd use his teeth to pull on the grass dislodging it to make a wider opening making what appeared to be becoming a den. I've never had a dog that seemed to display some of the traits that he has, its been fascinating to watch him over the summer as evidently he develops his natural instincts in nature. He has a profound love of water, I decided to take him down to the river, and he literally goes nuts, deciding also to build himself a den into the side of the riverbank.
He makes quite a mess of himself but he goes hand in hand with the words water and mud. Get him anywhere near it and he goes crazy. He takes his paws and feels below the surface of the water until he comes across something, he sticks his nose right down into the water and brings forth that which he "caught" with his paws. If it's a desirable catch he moves to take it into high grass, chew or disassembles it hidden among the tall spikes as if to try conceal his prey from any other predators.
Often it is a stick as only one time did he catch something that managed to get away. It can't just be any stick that makes it to the disassembly process, or merely to chew on. The ones he disassembles have to be able to be stripped easily into long slender strips, I am thinking in a process to make bedding for his den. Others come as a cool, soft soothing relief to his teething he is going through. Sticks must come in different flavors as not all them make the grade, and he'll continue on until he finds just the right ones.
I've learned two things from this process. That chances are he can hold his breath underwater longer than I can, and that no male has chewed through my money like he has trying to find similar for him to do constructively in the house so he isn't just chewing on everything in sight while teething. They say that is important to teach them that distinction between what they can or can't teeth on otherwise they'll never outgrow chewing on everything in sight. That and a little creative thinking after having lost some shoes and slippers. Everytime I go to fed him in the morning I tell him I got to get my slippers first, same with taking a walk, "let me put my shoes on", and eventually he got it, if I chew her shoes, I can't go for a walk. Now he knows his inside mission in life is to find and destroy every squeaky clacker inside toys. A job he does exceptionally well, to well for my pocket book. Since you don't want him digesting rawhide, those natural chews that can last a fair amount of time are expensive. There are though some payoffs to his crafty skills, he's a wonderful help in the garden and can dig a hole faster than I can, have it all prepared and ready for you without a weed left in sight.
I swear he cheats but he'll never admit it, somewhere in that pile there has to be a weed to throw out. He's also a superb mole hunter. Never had a problem with them until the city started replacing old lead pipes in the neighborhood, and I think the moles just relocate into whatever area is closest but safe. But his nose knows, and there's clearly no doubt, he'll track them right down into their tunnels. He finds them in the neighbors yards also, sort of hard to explain he's doing them a big favor when they think he's just trying to tear up their yard, but I just pull him away satisfied my yard will be a mole free yard in no time. No more sinking of the lawn in spots for me.
Sometimes he'll track them for several feet and they'll probably tire of him being on their trail, besides after years of bringing in truck loads of sand for my kids to play on, one thing you learn, it eventually ends up going back to the way it originally looked. That understanding has been a huge benefit to him, and a learning curve to me watching him in a different perspective of a young pup doing what comes instinctively to them. Not that we don't have any battles of the minds, some "spawn of satan" moments, he knows the best places to hid out, but ultimately I end up winning out ninety percent of the time. The other ten percent is that please forgive me look on his face from his little man cave underneath the bed.
It's been challenging at times, I haven't had a puppy in forever and forgot how energetic they can be. I haven't had a dog for several months and I swore after losing my last dog I wouldn't get another not just because of the grieving and loss you feel but the cost associated now a days when they get sick or need vet care as they age toward the end of life. I lost my twenty two year old cat within months of losing my last dog, losing that cat was rough, had her almost a decade longer than the dog, seemed like we were together forever, and she was an incredible cat. There was never any holding her down, if she could figure out a way to get out of the house, she'd do it, even jumping down from the second story onto the basement entry way roof through an opening she made in the screen by pushing out the bottom. You'd go to bed thinking she was in the house and next thing you knew she was knocking on the back door to get in. Yeah, she use to do that, she could get the screen door to open, she'd sit on the pneumatic door opener and knock on the window. If she couldn't get you to respond, she'd go bang her paws on the front porch storm window to make it rattle until you got up. We'd take the dog for a walk or go for a walk in the neighborhood and she'd go right along with us, she was truly one of a kind. She was a long haired Himalayan Siamese calico mix, as a kitten she was the ugliest kitten you ever saw. My son came dragging her home from a friend whose cat had kittens. She looked like a big blob of fuzzy mold but grew into one of the most beautiful cats. She had her temperament though, why she got the nickname Snippy cat, and each grand kid though forewarned, found out exactly what Snippy cat means, along with a few other assorted individuals over the years. All the pets I had in my life, she was a tremendous loss to me. I was pretty content with my decision that my remaining cat would be the last pet for me, then one day I found myself staring at a picture of the pets of the week for adoption on a local news site. That face was so irresistible but I kept telling myself no. I went back two more times that day to look again before ending up at the shelter ten minutes before close wondering if he was still there, and surprisingly enough he was. They told me come back in the morning and he's yours.
I went back in the morning, filled out the paperwork. The woman asked me if my cat had claws. I said yes, and she said good. Handed me the dog and said "good luck, you're going to need it with this one." Within minutes I discovered what she meant as a battle ensured over who was going to get to drive us home, he was insistent he was getting the drivers' seat but he ended up compromising to sit on the hump between the driver and passenger seat. I sat there for a moment reflexing back on that movie Problem Child where they patiently waited for them to drive off then threw confetti and released balloons out the window, nah, nah, with the innocence of a face like that, it just couldn't be. He's earned his spawn of satan moments and I am sure his feline doppelganger has a few names of his own he'd like to attribute to him, but we're adjusting quite well to the new family member and I will be enjoying the time spent with the last of the ones that I will own.
