Since coming into the forest a week or so ago, the Little Cute One has been acting crazy about ground squirrels, chipmunks, and even low-flying birds. She was oblivious to the rainy weather. All she cared about was some kind of rodent in the thick tall green grass. She acted like a little wolf or coyote on some animal video you've probably seen: remember the way they jumped up vertically and then landed right onto a rodent underneath the snow?
But I have to keep her on a leash for her own protection. (Think cars and coyotes.) It is so hard to do!
It is hard, because it is their wild enthusiasm that I most love to see. The biggest reason for preferring small dogs to big ones is not the little ones' cuteness. Instead, it is the feasibility of allowing the little ones to stay high-spirited. The bigger the dog, the more you must suppress their wild enthusiasm, lest they injure people, your clothing, or your house.
For a while I thought I could wean the Little Cute One from this rambunctious behavior by letting her off-leash in high-visibility and safe situations, and then bribing her back to me with a treat. But she is so sly! Once time, she sneaked off for a half-hour, as I became panicky and then angry. Finally I resigned myself to defeat, and walked 1/3 of a mile back to my camper. She was waiting for me, there, safe and sound.
It is so hard to praise a dog in a situation like that, instead of knocking them over the head with a heavy tree branch. Controlling your anger is almost as hard as keeping them on the leash in the first place.
There is some comedy to this situation. Poodles love to stand up on their rear legs. When they get a whiff of some prey, they charge out to the end of the leash, stand up, and lean into the taut leash.
I expect that in my current miniature poodle/cockapoo because I saw it in my first dog, who was also a miniature poodle. Like the current dog, he traveled with me through a lot of dry upland areas in the western states.
But one time we visited Baja California. The Pacific Ocean was new to both of us. At sunset one evening we walked to the beach. I knew nothing particular about the shoreline, there. Presumably the ocean floor fell away gradually. Wouldn't it be great to see a California grey whale out there somewhere -- maybe a half mile? -- doing some "breaching" or "tail slapping?!"
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| From the archive: the Little Valiant One and some guy, clambering off a lee-shore in Baja, with 40 mph winds |
So I was shocked and delighted when a grey whale came up to do some spy-hopping so close to the beach! Why, it was as close as the wildlife we were used to seeing in a forest or desert! How could the ocean floor be that sharp, so as to let the whale get in so close?
But say, I wonder if...yep, there he was, the little white poodle was standing up on his hind legs, leaning against the taut leash, and staring right at the whale.
That's the way it is with those little white fuzzballs. They come into our lives like white sea foam, briefly washing over a slightly longer-lasting beach.
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| Jimmy Buffett, eat your heart out. A Baja sunset, years ago. |
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