Dear financial institution:
As you can see, my dog got to the piece of mail you sent me before I did.
He’s a fairly new dog, and he’s still working out some behavioral issues, such as barking when mail comes through the slot in my door and lands on my floor.
He picks one piece of mail and then chews it up. I’m not sure how he decides which to chew up, but this time he chose the letter from you over such offerings as a lovely note from my mortgage company, an electric bill and coupons offering me a discount on pizza.
It’s particularly regrettable in this case because what remains of what you sent has all the markings of a check made out to me for $80,000.
If that is the case, please cancel payment and send me another one.
If it’s something else, such as a loan offer disguised as a gift, a loan for which I have been “pre-qualified,” don’t worry about sending it again, and you might want to check how good a job your pre-qualifying department is doing.
I get quite a lot of those offers from companies that suggest I “consolidate” my debt, but that would require adding up all my debt, and that would likely result in cardiac arrest.
A lot of dog owners — those with mail slots — experience this issue, and commonly they put up an outside mailbox so their pets don’t eat their mail.
I’m thinking it might not really be a problem after all, especially if my dog has the ability to detect junk mail and/or offers from sleazy companies hell-bent on deceiving me.
To be honest, before I got the dog a couple of months ago, I was toying with attaching a paper shredder to the mail slot so it could consume all this crap the second it shattered the solace of my home.
The chewed remains of what you sent are now in the trash, where quite possibly they rightfully belong — with soggy coffee grounds, snot-filled tissues, stinky Alpo cans, dead bugs and all the other contents of my vacuum cleaner cannister.
Given 90 percent of what comes through that slot is trash, it’s hard for me get too upset about it.
In the unlikely event that really was a check for $80,000, well, easy come easy go.
Posted by John Woestendiek January 9th, 2017 under Muttsblog.
Tags: animals, banks, barking, behavior, check, chewing, companies, credit, deceptive, delivery, destructive, dog, dogs, door, garbage, junk mail, loans, mail, mail slot, marketing, pets, post office, postal
This may work as comedy, but I don’t think it’s going curtail this Cavalier King Charles Spaniel’s snoring.
The video was posted on YouTube this week by Tal Solomon, who describes himself as a comedian.
Judging from the comments the post has received, not everybody’s laughing.
“Typical male behavior,” one comment reads, “his dog is probably a female and since the male in this video doesn’t have a wife to harass he abuses his female dog with sleep deprivation. It’s so sad what the male population is up to nowadays, the patriarchy, which we can see in it’s clearest form in this video, is disgusting!”
Whoa. I don’t know how the comment-maker reads all that into the video.
I doubt this method will work on dogs, or people.
But my bigger question is, if a recording of the dog’s snoring wakes him (or her) up, why doesn’t his (or her) snoring wake him (or her) up?
And that pumping up of the volume? We wouldn’t call it abusive, but it’s pretty unfair.
Posted by John Woestendiek January 4th, 2017 under Muttsblog, videos.
Tags: animals, behavior, cavalier king charles, dog, dogs, humor, pets, recording, snoring, snoring dogs, tal solomon, training, video
And from my dog, I got peed on.
This was actually the day after Christmas. Out for the afternoon walk, we saw some neighbors and their dogs, all of whom we’d met before, approaching.
With Jinjja being the new guy on the block the other dogs were pretty excited to see him.
So three of my neighbor’s poodles, and the giant schnauzer down the street swarmed around him, barking and sniffing.
That was when Jinjja — either because he was stressed out or wanted to show all those other dogs that I belonged to him — lifted his leg and enjoyed a nice long pee on my pants leg.
I didn’t notice until the neighbor shouted, “Hey he’s peeing on you,” which was about the same time my leg started getting warm.
I’ve been on the lookout for strange behaviors in the dog I’ve had about a month now. He was rescued from a dog meat farm in South Korea, so I expected to face some unique behavior, in addition to all the other new dog issues.
Other than his initial skittishness and getting accustomed to new surroundings and what seemed, to him, novel things like television, there haven’t been that many.
Other than one small pee the first night home, his record is spotless, and so are my carpets.
But this one surfaced over the weekend — first when I, against my better judgment, brought him over to a party at my neighbor’s house. The one with the five dogs.
He’d met a couple of them by then, and they all greeted him in a friendly manner. But it wasn’t long before Jinjja decided he should leave a mark, or 20, on this new home he was visiting.
He’d been well drained before we entered, but peed by the door anyway. Then about five more times he started to lift his leg, but stopped when I yelled at him. When all five dogs went out on the back patio, Jinjja went into a peeing frenzy, dashing from spot to spot and, if not actually peeing, going through the motions.
He’d also peed a week earlier in the exam room at the vet’s office — despite having peed repeatedly outside before entering.
Whether it’s stress, or turf-marking, I can’t say for sure.
My kindest interpretation, though, is that he was passing on information to the other dogs — for in one good squirt of urine a dog reveals much of himself, to other dogs at least.
It’s like, “sure you can smell my butt, but that is ephemeral, a quickly passing pleasure.” By peeing in the home of five dogs, though, he could have figured, “I’ll just leave this and you can get to know me better after I leave.”
The more immediate reaction is more like, “Dammit, you peed on me!”
(I’m sure I’ll laugh about it later. My neighbors laughed about it right away.)
Many experts will tell you a dog who pees is marking his territory, and when he pees on a person, there may be some dominance issues involved.
With Jinjja, I think the bigger issue is insecurity, and that he is still figuring out his place in the social order. (Happily, it is no longer as meat.)
I’m, in a way, doing the same thing, being new to the townhome neighborhood. On my street there are 20 homes, and 26 dogs. I am pretty sure the dogs outnumber the people. Part of the reason I moved here was because it seemed so dog friendly, and because I thought it would be a good place for my previous dog, Ace, and myself, to enjoy our golden years.
He died before I made the move, and six months later, I met Jinjja.
The neighbors have welcomed Jinjja with open arms. My neighbor Trish with the five dogs was even smiling as she mopped us his pee from her entryway Friday night — in the middle of her retirement party.
I’m glad I’m on a street of dog lovers. I’m glad to be among all those dogs. I’m glad Jinjja is now one of them.
I’m not so glad about being peed on, or the prospect that whenever Jinjja visits someone’s house, he will feel the need to christen it.
Oh well, something to work in the New Year.
Posted by John Woestendiek December 27th, 2016 under Muttsblog.
Tags: animals, behavior, dog, dog meat trade, dogs, dominance, housebreak, housebreaking, information, insecurity, jinjja, marking, meaning, pee, peeing on humans, pets, stress, territory, training, turf, urine
Young dogs who are especially anxious and impulsive can grow gray hair on their muzzles prematurely — just like humans, a new study says.
Scientists involved in the study, published in the journal Applied Animal Behaviour Science, said they had long suspected stress led to premature gray around the muzzle in dogs, even though little research exists on the topic.
“Based on my years of experience observing and working with dogs, I’ve long had a suspicion that dogs with higher levels of anxiety and impulsiveness also show increased muzzle grayness,” said Camille King, a Denver area veterinarian who led the study.
Author Temple Grandin also took part in the study, according to a press release from Northern Illinois University, King’s alma mater.
To investigate, the researchers traveled to dog parks and veterinary clinics in Colorado, giving questionnaires to the owners of 400 dogs, CBS reported.
The owners answered 42 questions about their dogs’ behavior, age and health, while the researchers took photos of each dog.
The researchers excluded dogs with light-colored fur. They focused just on dogs between ages 1 and 4, as older dogs could have gray fur simply from aging, the researchers said.
To gauge anxiety levels, the researchers asked about whether the dog destroyed things when left alone, had hair loss during vet exams or when entering new places, or cringed or cowered around groups of people.
To rate impulsivity, the researchers asked if the dogs jumped on people, whether they could be calmed, if they had difficulty focusing, and if they continued to be hyperactive after exercising.
Female dogs tended to have higher levels of grayness than male dogs did, the researchers found, and dogs that showed fearfulness toward loud noises and unfamiliar animals and people also tended to have increased grayness, they said.
In contrast, they said, grayness had nothing to do with the dog’s size, whether it was fixed and whether it had any medical problems.
(Photos by John Woestendiek)
Posted by John Woestendiek December 20th, 2016 under Muttsblog.
Tags: aging, animals, anxiety, behavior, dog, dogs, fur, gray, grayness, grey, greyness, hair, impulsivity, muzzle, permaturely grey, pets, premature, prematurely gray, research, stress
Jinjja met Roscoe this week, and it was a mostly peaceful exchange.
In what was his first real outing since learning to jump in the car by himself, with help from a family heirloom, Jinjja had his first meeting with my brother’s dog at Winston-Salem’s Leinbach Park — neutral ground as neither had been there before.
They touched noses, sniffed each other out, and did well together — at least for the first 30 minutes.
So far, despite his unusual background — Jinjja was rescued from a farm in South Korea where dogs were being raised for slaughter — he has gotten along with every dog he has met, from the flirtatious basset hound who lives across the street to rambunctious poodle (one of five) who live next door.
We haven’t tried a real dog park yet, but I think he is ready for that. (And I almost am.)
Leinbach Park is semi dog friendly. Leashed dogs are allowed in the park. But dogs, leashed or unleashed, are not allowed on the hiking trail.
“Dogs are not allowed on the sandstone walking trail at any time. The reason should be obvious,” the city’s director of Parks and Recreation told the local paper a couple of years ago.
(Sorry, but the reason isn’t obvious to me.)
Still, we mostly heeded the warning, staying to the side of the path as much as possible, Jinjja sniffing for squirrels and Roscoe barking without provocation, which he’s prone to doing.
It wasn’t until we stopped walking and took a seat on a bench that, for no apparent reason, there were snarls and growls exchanged, followed by another brief confrontation. There was no real contact, and they seemed to make up afterwards.
Ace (my previous dog) and Roscoe never became the best of friends. They reached a certain detente after a confrontation that also seemed to have erupted out of nowhere, and left both a little bloody.
On the way back to our cars Jinjja and Roscoe got along fine. I was a little worried about getting him back in my Jeep. I was advised by shelter he came from that it wasn’t a good idea to try to move his body or pick him up. Even though he has almost totally let down his defenses with me, I still haven’t tried to lift him up yet.
Instead, to get him loaded, I used an ottoman from my living room, which my mother passed on to me. It has a cushion that was embroidered by a great aunt we all called “Tan.” When I back my car up to curb, the ottoman, along with a dangled piece of bologna, makes it easy for Jinjja to step up and jump in.
This was our first time without a curb. He hesitated a bit, but on the third try, just as the bologna ran out, he went for it, back paws getting a good grip on the carpet-like embroidery, and made it.
I’ve been leaving the footstool in my car, until I buy some kind of sturdy box to replace it.
(That will probably be about the time he realizes he doesn’t even need it.)
I still have Ace’s old ramp, but it’s pretty cumbersome, and Jinjja might resist climbing up it even more than he has jumping in.
Once Jinjja masters the leap into the back seat — with or without a step up — the footstool will return to the inside of the house, and I will continue to prop my own feet up on it, even if it is a work of art.
“No feet on the footstool” would be a stupid rule, much like “no dogs on the trail.”
Tan, whose real name was Kathleen Hall, was a teacher for many years and later a principal. There’s a school nearby that is named after her. She died in 1983. But I’m guessing what she shared with students lives on in them, their children and their children’s children.
The same can be said of her embroidered footstool, which is helping a South Korean dog who had no future hop into a car and see a little more of the world.
It’s one of those gifts that keep on giving.
Posted by John Woestendiek December 14th, 2016 under Muttsblog.
Tags: adopted, animals, behavior, bologna, car, dog, dog parks, dogs, farm, footstool, jindo, jindol, jinjja, jump, kathleen hall, leinbach park, meat trade, ottoman, park, parks, pets, roscoe, south korea, tan, winston-salem
On the second day of Jinjja, he peed twice in the house, still was very fearful, but otherwise he acted quite friendly.
On the third day of Jinjja, I left him home alone, only for an hour, he didn’t cower, and he didn’t destroy anything.
On the fifth day of Jinjja, he was still shaking his past: Raised on a dog farm, tied up or crated, little human contact, headed for slaughter, and destined to end up as meat.
On the sixth day of Jinjja, he started coming to me, not when I called him, of his own volition, just for affection, maybe a butt scratch, gave me some face licks, and not only when I dangled yummy treats.
On the seventh day of Jinjja, he faced another test. It was Thanksgiving, I left him for two hours, stuffed myself with turkey, made off with leftovers, came home and found him, despite all my worries, behaving absolutely perfectly.
On the eighth day of Jinjja, I tried once again, to get him in my car. He can’t be lifted, try and he’ll nip ya, bribed him with turkey, made a little headway, he put his front paws there, didn’t make the leap though, still apparently not quite ready.
On the ninth day of Jinjja, he spent the night in my room. First time he’s done it, not in my bed though, won’t jump there either, or up on sofas, I know he can do it, seen him in in my courtyard, when he thinks I’m not looking, gets up pretty high too, every time he sees or hears a squirrel.
On the tenth day of Jinjja, this Jindo dog of mine, continues to impress me, no inside peeing, tearing up nothing, stopped fearing TV, eating much more neatly, barking somewhat less-ly, mellow for the most part, friendly to strangers, be they dogs or humans, or anything other than squirrels.
On the eleventh day of Jinjja, he’s much better on the leash, much much less tugging, stops when I tell him, still trips me up some, but fewer collisions, and he finally got into my Jeep, with help from a stepstool, and lots more turkey, enjoyed a short ride. It’s a very, very major victory!
On the twelfth day of Jinjja, as I composed this piece, I realized it goes on … just a little too long … sure the song’s beloved … but the beats a little humdrum … keeps on repeating … makes me quite sleepy … Jinjja, too, I thinky … He’s dozing at my feet, see … Still, there’s a meaning … in this song that I’m singing … about a dog who would’ve been eaten … My point is every day with him’s a gift.
Posted by John Woestendiek November 29th, 2016 under Muttsblog.
Tags: 12 days of christmas, animals, behavior, car, care, christmas, dog, dog meat, dog meat industry, dog meat trade, dogs, eating dog, fear, freedom, jindo, jindol, jinjja, korea, korean, new dog, north carolina, ohmidog!, pets, refugee, rescued, saved, skittish, socializing, training, travel, watauga humane society
Many of us may be most familiar with infrared thermography from its least valuable (I’d argue) use — ghost hunting.
It serves many far more sophisticated purposes, though, than providing fodder for those shaky-camera paranormal TV shows — from assessing medical conditions to military reconnaissance, from finding missing children to sensing mood changes in humans.
And, no big surprise, dogs.
In the latest post on Dog Spies, her blog on Scientific American, Julie Hecht recounted a recent study at the Animal Behavior, Cognition and Welfare Research Group at the University of Lincoln in the UK.
Researchers found, through infrared thermography, that the ear temperature of dogs decreased (turning blue on the camera) when they were isolated, and warmed backed up (turning red) when they reunited with people.
It’s similar to findings in studies of human stress levels — except in humans it’s the nose, instead of the ears, that is the most common giveaway.
As Hecht explained, infrared thermography picks up changes in surface temperature. When frightened, stressed or placed in unfamiliar surroundings, blood rushes away from your extremities, in dogs and humans. They get cooler as your core gets warmer and ready to react to whatever threat may be ahead.
The tip of a scared person’s nose gets cooler in such situations, just as rat paws and tails have been shown to do in experiments. In rabbits and sheep, the ears are the most obvious indicator.
Stefanie Riemer and colleagues placed dogs for brief periods in an isolated and novel environment. As the researchers expected, thermographic images of the dogs in isolation showed their ear temperature increasing, then rising when they were reunited with people.
The study appears in the current issue of Physiology & Behavior.
Six dogs were included in the study, and several were found to be unsuitable for study because their fur was too dense to get a good reading.
It seems like a technology that could be put to good use when it comes to studying dogs, and in learning more about those with behavioral issues and what triggers them.
That seems to me a better pursuit than chasing ghosts who aren’t really bothering anybody. Non-invasive, physically, as it is, even infrared photography has the potential for being cruel.
In a study in Italy two years ago, 20 bank tellers who had been robbed at gunpoint were shown a series of faces — happy, neutral, angry, etc. On the fifth face, the researchers exposed them to a loud and unexpected blast, and recorded, thermographically, how the blood left the noses and face.
Half of the tellers had already been diagnosed with PTSD.
Whether the researchers ended up giving PTSD to the other half is not addressed in the study.
(Photo: S. Riemer / Physiology & Behavior)
Posted by John Woestendiek November 4th, 2016 under Muttsblog.
Tags: Animal Behavior Cognition and Welfare Research, animals, behavior, change, cognition, dog spies, dogs, ears, emotions, eyes, fear, fearful, ghosts, infrared thermography, intrared, julie hecht, moods, nose, pets, photography, physical, reactions, research, scientific american, sensing, stress, stressed, study, temperature, uk, university of lincoln