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Cricket, Our Golden Girl

1/29/2015

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A year ago, I posted a blog about Molly Bolt, our cat. Although Cricket has been mentioned in blogs and I've posted a couple of pictures of her, she’s never been featured. If you’ve read my book, a few of the descriptions and incidents may sound familiar. Also, I've used descriptions and incidents here that applied to our other Goldens, but are also fitting for Cricket.

“Our Golden Girls” is the title of a chapter in my book telling the story of the golden retrievers that have graced our lives: Ginger, Taffy, Brandy, Amber and Cricket. They all shared typical Golden characteristics: unconditional love, high level of intelligence, eagerness to please, excellent retriever and hunting skills and exuberance for life. Evidence of the exuberance is they smile a lot. Yes, they really do smile!
Our Goldens aren’t just pets; they are trained by Bill to hunt and retrieve. He has a list of criteria he uses for selecting a pup. He asks if either of the parents hunted and whether or not the pup had shown scenting ability. Neither of Cricket’s parents hunted, but she had already exhibited her scenting skill. The owner had chickens and when the litter of pups was just starting to explore the yard, Cricket was always the first to sniff out and find the chicken poop. Yes, the dog had a nose!

Cricket embraced her retriever training, as had her predecessors, with that characteristic Golden gusto. Bill trained her well. Once she hits a field or draw, she’s a scenting, tracking, flushing, retrieving machine.

Although Bill hasn’t hunted as much in recent years, he and Cricket have been out a few times. When they return home, there’s always a story about the “Retrieve of the Century.” This is usually followed by a comment I’ve been hearing as long as I’ve known him: “There will never be another dog like ________!” Fill in the blank with Ginger, Brandy, Amber or Cricket. My response is usually, “You say that, but every dog you’ve ever trained has been better than the previous one. And that’s saying something!”

A Scenting, Tracking, Flushing, Retrieving Machine

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Cricket also loves to retrieve the Frisbee! Occasionally, she will even catch it.
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Riding Shotgun

Cricket loves to ride in any of the trucks with Bill. No coaxing necessary. If the door opens, she hops in and takes up her position riding shotgun. The first fall at the new farm, Bill was still working full time and officiating football. If he wouldn’t be home until late or was staying out overnight, I would come home from work, change clothes, then Cricket and I would jump in the mini-truck and drive through the pastures, checking cows for new calves. Cricket considers the mini her truck and it usually doesn’t leave home without her.
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The Mole-inator

When we moved to our current farm, the yard was full of raised dirt pathways, indicating serious tunneling activity below ground. A community of moles, those rodents with front feet that look like human hands, had established a thriving metropolis below ground. In the spring, Cricket goes on mole patrol: She sniffs out the little yard-wreckers and furiously digs until she nails one or it burrows so deep she loses the scent. When she catches one, she amuses herself by tossing it up in the air, then pouncing on it when it hits the ground. The dead mole eventually ends up in a body bag in the morgue freezer, then is interred in the trash on collection day.
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Corn Dog

Another characteristic shared by all of our Goldens is they love fresh sweet corn. We unwittingly (or wittingly) developed this taste by giving them samples when we shucked ears for dinner or freezing. It didn’t take long for the dogs to learn to pick their own, either an ear at a time or by uprooting the whole stock, dragging it into the yard and chowing down! The latter is Cricket’s preference.
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The Paper Carrier

One of Cricket’s favorite tasks is fetching the morning newspaper from the end of the driveway to the house. Bill taught her this little task after she became proficient at retrieving the training dummy. In the mornings, when he went out to her house to get her, he would go out and pick up the newspaper; then give it to her to carry to the house. Once in the house, he commanded “Leave it” and she dropped the paper into his hand. Then he gave her a treat for breakfast. She picked up on this reward thing quickly and started running out the drive to pick up the paper without prompting. Then, much to our surprise and delight, she took this task to the next level.

The second winter at the new farm, Cricket cut one of her fronts paws on a piece of thick, sharp ice when Bill was breaking ice on a pond. The cut was on the insides of two toes and required stitches. The wound was bandaged, but we suspected she would chew it off during the night to she could lick her paw. Since her bedroom was in one of the outbuildings with a dirt floor covered with straw, we knew the wound would get dirty. We decided to do something we had never done: let a dog spend the night in the house.

The following morning, Cricket woke up Bill, he let her outside and gave the command, “high on.” This means “go potty.” Yes, there is actually a retriever training book command for going to the bathroom. All of our Goldens were trained to “high on” and they obeyed. Impresses the heck out of people when you tell them your dog pees on command!

A little while later, Bill opened the door to let Cricket back in the house. There she lay on the front step with the morning newspaper, still in its plastic sleeve, beside her. She got up, picked up the paper in her mouth and presented it to Bill. This was apparently her way of thanking us for letting her sleep in the house.

Fetching the morning paper is her job.
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As I said at the end of the book chapter on our Goldens, “Our Golden Girls were well-loved and loved well. We feel incredibly blessed to have been their people.”

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Taking the Gumboots for a Spin

1/18/2015

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The weather today was fantastic—a great day to take the gumboots for a spin and visit the heifers, cows and calves!

A few days ago, I did a test drive with a regular shoe, sans laces, on my de-bunionated foot. The result? My foot grumbled, “Not so fast, my friend!” The lifting motion off the ball of the foot triggered pain in that area so I’ll wait awhile before I try again. The sole of the rehabilitative boot is stiff and doesn’t allow flexing.  

Two days ago, I ventured outside in the rehab boot and walked a short distance to the pasture gate for a reunion with the cattle. Bill brought some range cubes so I could treat them. My foot tolerated the outing well—no pain during or later.

So today I decided to try the gumboots. They have fairly stiff soles, though they will flex. My right foot slid easily into the boot and I was out the door! I still walked flat-footed so as to not create pain, either immediately or later. This second reunion was up close and personal—I paid a visit into the pasture, bearing range cubes and being careful to not get stepped on. Not quite sure how I would explain a wreckage of crushed bone, titanium plate and pins to my doctor!

The picture below shows Freddie, one of the Bobsey twins, lounging in the bale feeder. Our cows don’t raise dumb calves! To the far left is Mama Bobsey, #67. The calf in the hay outside the feeder, Johnny-Come-Lately, belongs to Cow #972, behind the feeder to the right. Johnny was our next to last calf, hence the name. The reddish cow is Ginger, also hence the name.
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The replacement heifers are experiencing hand-feeding of their range cubes for the first time and some haven’t developed the feeding hand-tongue-mouth coordination required to keep the treat from ending up on the ground. #59 dropped hers so I just picked it up, dusted it off and fed it to her again—and she dropped it again! Oh well, we’ll work on this.
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Somebody tugged on my sleeve from behind so I rewarded her misbehavior!
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The girls were getting a little pushy-shovey, so I retreated behind the small overturned stock tank.
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When I ran out of range cubes, I slowly flat-footed back to the house and sat outside for awhile. What a gorgeous day! Cricket was feeling it also, prompting a game of Frisbee with Bill. She caught the first toss, but I didn’t have the camera ready.
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What a happy girl!
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Giving the Boot to the Boot!

1/14/2015

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Good news from my latest bunion surgery follow-up appointment: I can put full weight on my right foot in the glamorously supportive Breg® boot. If that goes well, in a few days I can gradually transition to a regular shoe! The walker is also destined to become an aid of the past—use as needed for stability during the transitions.

The nurse practitioner was surprised and impressed at how quickly I’m healing, considering surgery was only five weeks ago. She said the X-rays looked great, the titanium plate and pins are "at one" with my foot and the bones that were cut or separated are almost fused back together.

To back up a couple of weeks, at my last appointment the dressing was replaced by an elastic bandage. The knots in both ends of the dissolvable stitches were snipped. I could wash the foot in the shower, but no extended soaking.

My next appointment is in three weeks and I will very likely drive to it. Once I’m comfortable walking in a real shoe, I can try driving after I practice making emergency stops to be sure I can quickly move from the accelerator to the brake without discomfort.

Soon, I’ll be able to wear socks that match! Since the surgery, I've worn one of my own socks on the left foot, and a long, super-stretchy sock that came with the boot on the right—one size fits all and white. None of my socks would fit over the dressing or the elastic wrap.
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Won’t be long before I’ll be making “Gumboot Tracks” all over our farm! 

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