"Every day, a little up."

At work as a Quality Manager, I use Lean continuous improvement methodologies. I love this aspect of my job, as Lean methods fit right into my own natural way of thinking. In the US, Lean is often defined as the “elimination of waste,” but this definition focuses only on the results and not the methods, where the true genius lies. To convey Lean thinking, I like a story I read in the Toyota Way Fieldbook that goes something like this. An American executive goes to a Toyota site in Japan to learn about Lean. After walking around the facility and talking for a while, struggling somewhat to convey Lean to the American in English, his Japanese counterpart walks up to a dry erase board and draws a simple set of stairs. He indicates just one of the steps and says “every day, a little up.”

This is Lean. We honestly assess ourselves and embrace our imperfections, so that we might all work together to improve them, by digging down to find the true root of the issue and focusing on changing the things we can control. When we want to improve an area, we look for a small bite-size piece that we can easily change for the better - even if each small change only improves the area a little bit, the sum of these small changes for the better over time makes for amazing results. We form cooperative teams of employees at all levels, from in and outside of the work area in question. And instead of focusing on a giant, looming goal, we feel a sense of accomplishment when we make the change that we had planned, and it indeed improves things. In the end, we’ve scaled the huge staircase, but along the way each step was carefully done and its own achievement.

Another bit from the Toyota Way Fieldbook is a critique that American managers tend to "Ready, Fire, Aim" in problem-solving - basically shooting from the hip.  In Lean, it's more like "Ready, Aim, Aim, Aim, Fire."  More time and effort are spent before an action is taken, to ensure that this action will "hit the target."  The actions themselves may be dreadfully simple, but if they are sure to make a positive improvement in your desired result, then they are better than a thousand expensive, expansive actions that miss the mark.  But next to a flurry of firing and re-firing without thinking, all of that thoughtfulness can seem lackadaisical.  It's important to remind ourselves that the process that generates these dramatic and amazing positive changes over time can look peaceful, quiet, and reflective at each step.

I am not into stalking employees taking notes on my clipboard about their mistakes, though this is what people typically think of when they hear my job title. I spend little time as a Quality Manager focusing on our error rate, and analyzing our mistakes. I find that if we spend our time ensuring people are doing the right things every day, small things that are under our control, then quality automatically follows.

*****

Sometimes, I think I seem like I am not very serious about my dog training, and do not care about the results, that I am a dabbler without high aspirations. This is true, and it isn’t. It’s true I spend very little time thinking about titles and accomplishments, and that I favor versatility over perfection in one sport.

But my dogs often attain just as much, if not more, success as others – certainly not reaching elite levels, but they compete quite respectably alongside others who seem to be far more serious about the individual sport.  For the amount of time I put into training on a given canine sport or activity, I have a pretty high return on investment. I’ve been thinking all along that Rowdy is just an exceptional dog, bright and willing and versatile. Which is true, but as I embark on teaching Brutus to do basic weave poles in the one month remaining before the CPE trial (so that he and Paul can move up to Level 2), without even a doubt as to our eventual success, I have to admit this is not all that’s going on. In the two months I have had Seelie, she has grown tremendously, and in our agility class yesterday it became obvious that she will quickly surpass other dogs’ skills who have been working with their owners for years. My dogs’ most fluent skills of course reflect the things I hold most important – to willingly give their all toward any request I might make of them no matter how odd, to be able to easily understand what I want of them, and to be the kind of companion I enjoy most. I am far from a perfect trainer, but I have to admit that I think I’m on to something.

I spend a great deal of time learning about training methods, and I choose my methods carefully.  By the time my dogs and I are actually working on something, the serious part has already been done. When I train, it is lighthearted and fun for my dogs, but rather than indicating a lack of seriousness, it is an integral part of the methods I’ve chosen. The methods are solid, and I work hard to implement them correctly. My goal is to spend all of my energy on the journey – enjoying it, being in the moment, and also ensuring the quality of that journey. In each training session, I focus on improving just one or two small things as a team. It must seem like I have low expectations at times, since all I ask is that my dog and I complete the exercise of the day. I am almost always satisfied with whatever performance my dogs give me, because I know that the methods I’ve chosen will bring forth from them the very best performance they were able to give that day, according to the job I did as a trainer that day. Over time, this choice to focus on small, achievable training goals in each session has paid off. I choose to work first and most on the underlying foundations of our relationship and communication - this results in exactly zero impressive tricks or titles, but I find it to be serious and important work though an onlooker might think we’re just playing. I spend a good deal of time quietly assessing and re-assessing my training plans – but rather than having huge game plans and lofty goals, I really just want to build quality into the next session. And then the next. Every day, a little up.

Weasel Joy

For watching when you need a smile...

My ferrets have to remind me sometimes that there is joy around every corner.

On dog-dog greetings and wine tastings...

Dog Greetings and Fine Wine.


Most people assume that both of these things are supposed to be great all the time. Lassie et al have ensured that we all have an idealized picture in our minds of dog behavior, and the price tag and snobbish wine aficionados might be what tell us wine is just supposed to be enjoyed.

Upon actual observation, things are different. Reality tells us that some dog greetings go way off track, and too often a first wine tasting sends a person running, now self-stamped as a person that “doesn’t like wine.” We consciously or unconsciously blame the “nasty” dog, and the person with the “uncultured palate.”  If either a dog greeting, or a wine tasting, go wrong – then it must be due to a deficiency in the dog or person.



The thing is, most people can tell if something’s a train wreck, or a masterpiece. But in between, there are less easily discernible shades of gray, which take a very small and worthwhile investment of time, observation, and skills to see and to appreciate. Like in wine. And dog greetings. And pretty much everything.

People often assume that dog greetings are going fine unless there is a terrible cacophony of snarling to tell them otherwise (Train Wreck). Others can also discern when their dog particularly likes another dog. But that’s about the extent of it. Train Wreck or Masterpiece.

But just like when you meet people, some greetings are vanilla and uneventful, some are awkward and mildly uncomfortable, some are rude, and sometimes, rarely, you meet someone new that is destined to become a good friend. Dogs are a social species – this is one of the reasons they have found their way into our homes over time. Just like us, they come in a wide continuum of personalities, and each dog has preferences about who they’d like to spend time with. You might also have some opinions about just what kind of strangers you’d like to touch you, and how… but no reason to get too far into that. The point is – tune in, and what you see might change your attitude about assuming your dog loves every other dog. They might not enjoy greeting strangers at all. Oddly, even the shyest of people tend to find this disturbing.


Same goes for wine. I think mostly, people assume they “should” enjoy all wine. They hear wine drinkers touting the excellent bottle of Merlot they just had, the lovely Chardonnay. If they saw me pouring a freshly opened bottle down the sink, they’d know the wine aficionado’s dirty little wine secret – some of it is downright terrible. And just like the dog, you might justifiably need to look around a bit to find the wine you’d enjoy meeting, and you might need to look around quite a lot to find the wine you’ll be lifelong friends with. The Masterpiece. I like sweet whites, and dry reds. This is not “supposed” to happen, so no one else’s judgment would have gotten me to enjoy both red and white wine, only my own observation and experience. So non-wine-drinkers, I beseech you to hone, and then trust, your own observation and experience.

If you can learn to recognize the shades of gray, you can get more masterpieces, and you can enjoy warmer, happier shades of gray along the way. Until you can interpret the gray area, you’re destined to have only whatever masterpieces happen to fall into your lap by chance. You’ll keep wondering why you’re drinking wine you don’t really like, without the chops to throw some of the stuff out. You might just avoid the stuff entirely rather than attempt to navigate the scary “gray area.” And your dog will keep doing his best to humor your expectations to be constantly running for Mayor of Dogtown (but occasionally, he might throw a punch at a heckler. Really. At least don’t be so shocked now when it happens.)

Instead, you could treat both as journeys, with shades of distinction in quality of experience – Allow your dog some input on what kind of company he enjoys (if you watch for a while, he will tell you quite clearly), and be a good friend to your dog by honoring this input and not expecting him to tolerate continued behavior that he finds rude just because it hasn’t devolved into a dogfight. If you do this, you’ll find you have less of those shocking Train Wrecks. Allow yourself some input on the ups and downs of your own journey into wino-dom. Try wines out, find a few acquaintances at first, toss out the crass jerks and the ones you just don’t hit it off with; then as you surround yourself with good friends, you just might find a BFF or two. (Oh Shiraz and Riesling, I can always count on the two of you!) We know that having dogs can improve our health, and lucky me that wine is the only vice that, in moderation, has been medically proven to improve your health. And most wonderfully, “moderation” is still a glass every day! Apparently, my drinking habit isn’t even “moderate!”

Dog Scout Camp 2010!

 

Rowdy, Seelie, and I just returned from a fun-filled week at Dog Scout Camp, my fourth journey to this heaven-on-earth in Michigan’s north woods. The whole concept of summer camp is awesome, with good friends, loads of activities to try, craft projects, campfires, hikes, water fun, and games. Combined with all of us bringing our dogs to focus on our shared hobby of choice, I can’t imagine a better way to spend a vacation. It also has “all-inclusiveness” since you park your car and leave your wallet for the whole week, with everything within walking distance and an honor-system camp store “tab.” Lisa Basial and I made the trip together (with her dogs Nano and Ransom), and had a blast as roommates.

Merit Badges! Gosh I love these cute little things, each one holding a memory of time spent learning something new together. Seelie earned some of her “first year camper” badges:

Puppy Paddler (learning to swim)

Boating

Obstacle 1 and 2 (Agility)

 Art of Shaping (painting) - hers is top left, a stingray 

I used the clicker to teach Seelie to raise her paw and hit a board, and also to wear a little mitt – later to be used by her to paint a picture which earned first prize in the “art contest.” She’s a quick learner, and gave a great demonstration of latent learning (like when you “sleep on it” and then grasp a concept better the next day without any further studying) – at our first Shaping class, we managed to get a couple swipes of paw on board and I decided we’d just end early on a good note, since we had all week to train with Shaping class each day. The next day, as soon as we sat down she picked up the behavior immediately and began striking the board – on with the Painting Paw mitt and paints, and whamo there she is painting in two ten-minute training sessions. Wow. But the big achievement for the week for Seelie and I was strengthening our relationship and communication – I definitely feel like we’ve crossed a bridge to a place where training is easier and the awkward new-ness has worn off of our relationship.

Rowdy has already earned most of the easier badges, but he got three neat ones this year.

 

Water Racing

Carting 

I’m especially proud of Rowdy for earning the new Messenger Dog badge (whose patch isn’t complete yet.) It simulates the job of military messenger dogs who in wartime would take messages back to base camp, and lead reinforcements to the forward platoons, tracking the platoon to its new location if they had moved. My friend Lisa took Rowdy about 200 yards down a wooded, winding trial and with the command of “report!” she sent him back to me with a message, Rowdy flying at top speed to reach me, never mind the wildlife, woods, and lake he needed to pass to get to me – he was on the job! He then led me to the location she released him from, but she had by then moved another 100 yards away, choosing one of three paths and then hiding off of the trial. Rowdy used his nose to track her path, not wavering even a moment as he chose the correct trail. As we passed Lisa’s hiding spot, Rowdy stopped when he lost the scent on the trail, just a few feet past where she had went off trail. It took him a moment to figure out what to do, but then he doubled back where he knew the scent was, picked up her scent again and then found her in her hiding place! Amazing! We only trained on this for a few days, and he did great.

Training for the Messenger Dog merit badge reminded me that I should never underestimate Rowdy – if I just can figure out how to communicate what it is that I want, he is always willing and able to carry it out. 

Surviving Bloat

Brutus after surgery, with breathing tube still in, and a foot-long incision you can't really see here.

Bloat. It’s a word that inspires fear in the hearts of crazy dog ladies everywhere. No one really knows what causes it, and it can move from zero symptoms (or ones you don’t notice) to fatal in a matter of minutes. The stomach twists on itself and once the stomach and intestines die, there is nothing you can do.

On Tuesday, Brutus had emergency surgery for bloat, and so far is doing ok. It’s very scary that if I had not been working from home that day, by the time we got home from work he probably either would have been dead or past veterinary medicine’s ability to save him. After the surgery, the owner of the veterinary hospital passed by and said he didn’t know whether to say it was our unlucky day, or our lucky day.  I replied that I’d put it squarely in the “lucky” column.

To spread the good karma around, the rest of this post is sharing my experience with bloat in the hope that it could save another dog’s life.  Pay special attention if you have a deep-chested or large breed of dog.  It’s also a harrowing tale with a happy ending, and even a bit of dark humor at the end.

Basically, Brutus’s stomach spun all the way around so that it was pinched shut and cutting off the blood supply to all parts of the digestive system south of the stomach. It also wrapped around his spleen, which had to be removed. His distressed system began filling with gasses that had no means to escape his body. The big risk is the dog going into shock and the blood-deprived tissues and organs dying. Dogs can’t live without functioning intestines.

The trigger to rush Brutus to the vet was a single stretch. He had vomited earlier, but it was the stretch that sent me to the vet for possible bloat. 20 minutes later, it would be apparent to anyone that he was in terrible distress, but thankfully we were already pulling up to the vet at that point because minutes count.

Here’s how it went down: Brutus was fine Monday night and Tuesday morning. He ate breakfast in a joyous but relatively relaxed manner with nothing out of the ordinary. A few hours later, he vomited, and there was a bunch of grass and a scrap of green vinyl I couldn’t identify in there, which may or may not have caused some gastric upset that contributed to the bloat, who knows. He drank some water I offered him, and took a treat - my first “tests” for how sick he is, which he passed with flying colors. Next test, check gums for capillary refill and color – A-ok. I gave him a Pepcid, which we normally give him for his acid reflux (he’s kinda fragile for a giant dog) and proceeded to my conference call. A bit later, he retched and belched a couple of times then seemed to recover (thank you “mute” function on my phone.) OK, time for closer observation. Then, lying down next to me, he did a big stretch, stretching his back legs way out. Uh oh. Maybe he is trying to relieve some discomfort in his belly/bowels? I decided to embrace my crazy dog lady-ness and drop my conference call on the rare chance it was bloat, and not just him stretching for the heck of it.

When I got the keys and crated the other dogs, he was ecstatic about going on a trip. I thought for the umpteenth time how I was overreacting, but thought at least I’d be able to pick up some milk while I was out. During the drive, on which I was favoring speed over smoothness of ride, he began retching repeatedly and couldn’t sit still (also thank you to my cargo liner, though I wasn’t caring about that at the time.) When I opened the back hatch about 20 minutes later, panic began to set in. There was foamy drool all over the cargo area. He had to stop several times between the car and the office to retch. From the car to the exam room, I watched his belly start to blow up like a balloon. At this point, I figured it was either an obstruction or bloat, but either way an emergency. He was x-rayed and put on IV fluids, which he would need to complete before surgery to guard against shock. Two bags took a while to drip in, and in the meantime his belly now felt and looked like a 9-month pregnancy. He spent some time pacing with his legs set wide apart, groaning, drooling, and trying to pass gas to try to relieve the pressure he was feeling (which did succeed in expressing his anal glands quite a bit), holding his tail high over his body. He spent other time lying down, still groaning and drooling.  His tongue and gums became pale white.

The x-ray had shown what looked like an intestinal torsion, which is more rare (i.e. vets have less experience performing these kinds of surgeries successfully.) After the x-ray and starting the IV, our wonderful, caring, and skilled vet - whom I am so glad happened to be in that office branch on that day - informed me that if she opened him up and saw that his intestines were dead, she would be asking us to make the merciful decision not to wake him up.  I knew already that bloat was often fatal, but hearing it out loud is something else entirely.  Of course I lost it at that point, but had to quickly recover so that I could get Paul on the road toward us and hopefully not so erratically to provoke a crash. Paul did make it prior to the 2 IV bags being done, and Brutus was happy to see him of course. Throughout, Brutus still summoned a little tail wag for every visitor to the exam room.

A bit into the surgery, we were informed that it was his stomach that had turned, not the intestine, which was the first bit of good news. It was also apparent at that point that the vet had seen inside him and it wasn’t a total unsalvageable mess.

Some hours later, our vet emerged looking absolutely exhausted, to tell us we could see him as soon as he was moved from surgery into an exam room, and that everything went ok. Part of the surgery is to tack his stomach against his body to prevent recurrence. He’ll stay at the vet the rest of the week, because it is possible he’ll need a second surgery to remove part of his stomach, but this seems to be a contingency they are prepared to deal with if it happens. Then a week of feeding tiny meals every few hours, and six weeks of leash-restricted walking and crate rest, and he’s back to full duty.

We stayed with Brutus quite a while, until we were officially kicked out so that he could go in the back and rest. Here’s the only humorous portion of the story. He was pretty much out of it, sort of aware of his surroundings but just lying there sleepy. Then a vet who we normally don’t see, but who was the one to come out to our house last July to put Louie to sleep, stopped by to see how we were doing. As soon as Brutus heard that voice, he came alive and tried to get up, and we had to work to keep him lying down and still. Apparently he was saying, “Whoa there! No, hey, I’m ok, see? Look I’m standing up! No need for the grim reaper here. Good as new!” Apparently he wanted to be VERY clear, that today was not his day to go.  And thank heaven for that.

Audubon's failure at naming, and the miracle of inter-species communication

Announcing Seelie Court Withun, DSA! After realizing that “Piper” was completely wrong for her, I started looking at bird names since she is so light, joyful, and merry. But, as it turns out, birds got the short end of the stick in the naming department… Not one suitable name in the entire Audubon Field Guide to North American Birds. I fared no better with the Field Guide to North American Wildflowers. After going 0 for 2 with Audubon and a brief unfruitful look at North American Trees, I knew better than to crack open Reptiles & Amphibians or Insects & Spiders.  Seriously Audubon, wasn't taxonomy your "thing?!"  Is it just North America, or is humankind really this bad at naming flora and fauna?  I guess waiting two weeks to name my dog is not so bad then.  So the search moved to new areas.

In Scottish folklore, the fey – fairies and such – are divided into the Seelie and Unseelie courts. Generally, the Seelie Court fey are the more benevolent toward humankind; though they are still mischievous and have their moments, they have good intentions. I think it fits, because while she is lovely and sweet, she does have her own ideas about things (and I think she’s got about the perfect combination of biddable and independent.) Some see the Seelie Court as the “aristocracy” of the fey, and hey if you’re going to be a fairy, you may as well be in the ruling class. Paul also came up with the name Seelie completely independently. Long before we started watching the TV show Bones, he nicknamed Rowdy Bones – and Seeley Booth is Bones’ counterpart on one of our favorite shows (tough gun-toting FBI guy and nerdy forensic scientist – gee I wonder why we both like it.) So there you go.

Seelie has been quite busy, enrolled in two classes a week, going to Dog Scout camp for the retreat, and we just went out to work sheep again yesterday. I am anxious to build a good working relationship, and not that great at practicing on my own, so there we are in class. I knew that getting a new dog might have its frustrations, starting over in many ways with training while I am used to Rowdy pretty much knowing everything already or at least picking it up in under 5 minutes. But what struck me in the first week was that I wasn’t bothered by her not knowing how to retrieve, or having a perfect recall – it was that I had no way of communicating with her. It was as if I were hosting a foreign exchange student that knows nothing but Japanese. What struck me next is that – good heavens – this is how most people live their whole LIVES with their dogs! What a shame, when life can be so much more enjoyable, and your “friendship” with your dog so much richer, if you just take a few minutes a day to discover the wonders of inter-species communication. 

With both Brutus and Rowdy, it seems I can always communicate with them, and know generally what they are wanting as well. Most of the time it just feels like we have ESP and is totally effortless, but really it’s a combination of having taught them pretty many words, and them learning my body language and tones of voice (and me being consistent with them), added to a healthy dose of just paying attention to one another enough to figure each other out.  I do spend some time trying not to be hopelessly confusing, but I have to say this has paid off in my human relationships as well.  For either of us, it pays dividends. Whether they decide to cooperate is another thing entirely, but I’m never left without a way to let them know what it is that I want. If Rowdy is thirsty at the training building, he looks at corner with the water bowl and looks at me, and I’m usually paying enough attention and don’t mind walking him over there. Because he knows how to politely ask for things, and is granted that thing often enough, he doesn’t become a nuisance demanding stuff or throwing tantrums.  I like to think he’s happier being able to ask, and I like the idea that he’s not just a prisoner who has every moment decided for him, down to when he can execute the most basic bodily functions.  Incidentally, this is why I find it hard to believe so many people think their dogs are "taking over" and dominating their relationship - use your TOOLS, people!  That's the hallmark of homo sapiens for God's sake! 

ANYway...  Occasionally, he “asks” to be let out back to do joyful zoomies around the woods when HE feels like it, and occasionally I oblige. And I can ask him to bring me the squeaker he has just liberated from a savaged stuffed toy so that he doesn’t swallow it (and I don’t even have to leave my chair) or to walk more slowly over the dogwalk please, or please don’t make a noisy scene about the over-exuberant retriever coming at you, yes I see that he needs some manners but can we leave that to his owner this time?  Thanks, and you're right that is indeed cookie-worthy.  What a gift it is to be able to communicate with another species, and what a gift to your dog to bother. It makes life so much more enjoyable. And slowly, Seelie and I are getting on the same page, though I wonder what she’s thinking and worry that for now she’s living inside that Far Side cartoon “blah, blah, blah, Seelie, blah, blah, blah” wondering what the heck this crazy lady wants, anyway.

Adventures with New Red Dog

   Well, for simplicity's sake, I'll keep referring to little girl as "Piper" though we are currently testing several other choices.  Too many puh's or something, but Piper just does't work for her or for me, although I really liked Pi - 'irrational, yet well-rounded' for my fellow geeks.  Unfortunately, we already have a Pie in our circle of friends, so that adds fuel to the new name search fire.  And when I say "Piper, Down" I think of Mike Myers in the movie "So I Married an Axe Murderer," speaking in a heavy Scottish accent about the bagpiper that passed out drunk at his wedding - "Piper dowwwenn, we've go' a Piper dowwwenn."  On top of that, the whole Rowdy Roddy Piper thing, and it's just all too much.  (Little girl, tell me your name!!!!) 

   Some ideas on the current short list: Sesame (Sam for short), Cyder, Nutmeg (Meg), and Kaizen (Kai for short, pronouced just like it looks: kai - zen) which is a Japanese term for continuous improvement that loosely refers to working together to get a little better every day, though it means more to me than that.  I like the sentiment, and Kaizen is one of my favorite things about my work.  Just don't tell me if you *don't* like one, because that will make *me* not like it too, and then I'll never decide.  But feel free to show support for your favorite.

   So little girl came home with us for good on May 23rd, after a brief stay with Aunt Lori and her jack russell terriers.  Then right off to Intro to Rally-O class on Monday, and Basic Obedience class on Thursday.  Of course she is a superstar in class, and a quick learner, though she is a "breed snob" and has no interest in non herding dogs approaching her, with all their crazy bounciness (though she LOVES Brutus, and he loves her.)  I'm pretty sure she was using the canine version of the F-bomb on the nutty Dachshund sitting next to us who was only loosely under the control of its owner.  Then, on Friday morning we were straight off to the Dog Scouts of America Leader Retreat on Memorial Day Weekend with little girl, Rowdy, Aunt Lori, Sadie and Howie!  The Withun dogs keep a busy calendar.

   Highlights of the retreat: little girl earned the Dog Scout title (now her name will be "to-be-determined, DSA"), as well as the Overnight Camping and Backpacking merit badges, and Rowdy earned the Earthdog badge.  We had an awesome time camping out in a tent with our friends Lori and Lonnie - 3 people and 5 dogs in a tent, plus 3 more tents of great friends.  Rowdy carried the water in his backpack, and I carried the Chardonnay, while little girl took it easy for her first backpacking trip.  [Man, camping is fun, but also MUCH improved by a little wine.  Take the bag out of the box and you have yourself a drunken-camelback.]  Both dogs were fabulous, and made it seem like we camp out all the time.  Earning the Backpacking merit badge entailed hiking 6 total miles in Michigan's beautiful North Woods with the dogs wearing their backpacks containing: water, water bowl, spare collar and leash, poop cleanup bags, flashlight, first aid kit, matches, owner's ID, compass, pocketknife, and signalling device.  It's come in handy more than once that they are always carrying this stuff (and it leaves room in my pack for less serious but still important items, like wine and glasses, and bug spray.)

   It is so great to have dogs that you can take anyplace and do lots of fun stuff with, and it's worth all of the work to get there.  And/or it's worth all of the Donovans' work in little girl's case, since she arrived as a pretty easy companion, thank you very much Donovan family.  :)  She has quickly worked her way into Paul's heart too, even though she still barks at him when he emerges "suddenly" from the Man Cave (basement).

   I wondered how I would deal with a more timid type of dog, as little girl is.  I am used to Rowdy's all-in kind of personality.  For better or worse, he's always up for whatever I throw at him, enjoys any activity, and seems to excel at everything.  With relatively little training/encouragement, he was an Earthdog.  Down into the tunnel, crawling about ten feet to a left turn in the dark, then 8 more feet to where the rat was (safely contained), and "working the rat" for 15 seconds to earn the badge.  His version of "working" was furiously digging and whining at the bars that separated him from the rat.  I think when he realized I *wanted* him to dig and try to get the rodent, I got yet another shade cooler in his eyes - first sheep, now rats!  What a mom!  She's finally "getting it" about how much more fun that is than always "leaving it!"

   Little girl would not have been so interested, I think.  And as it turns out, I'm OK with that.  I think it would have been a little scary for her at first, and while we could have worked through it, she had a nap in the lodge instead.  I mean really, what more could I ask from her in that weekend that she had not already offered?  Between Brutus, Rowdy, and little girl, I think we have a great family of dogs with very different and interesting personalities.

   This weekend, I got brave enough - at Paul's encouragement - to let little girl off leash outside.  We had a great little hike around the property, and while I won't claim she's got a "lightning-fast recall," she didn't have any interest in straying out of our sight, and at this point, I'll take it.  Being able to just open the back door and walk out unleashed into the woods is wonderful.