Dogs on Wicklow hike

Dogs on Wicklow hike

Friday 7 September 2012

These boots were made for walking...

We were a bit of a spectacle in the airport on the return trip home. Dog crates and luggage for three weeks were piled on multiple luggage carts. Mary Lou and I each pushed two carts at once (which had that aggravating handbrake) and cleared a path down Manchester airport as effectively as army tanks.


The dogs were great, now seasoned travelers, and the staff at Air Transat were wonderful, a senior official coming to tell us personally the dogs were on board and happy. The day before we were less impressed because when we phoned to confirm the dogs were booked on the flight they insisted they didn't have any record of the dogs being booked and wouldn't take them. At one point it looked like someone was going to have to stay until September 11th, when the next seats were available, not a good omen.

The flight however, was delayed an hour when there was a mix-up with the catering. The crew waited until we were airborne to tell the passengers they were 100 meals short on the 8 hour flight, most receiving a large bun that looked like a cow pattie, a pat of butter, a small chocolate bar and a napkin. We fortunately had paid for an upgrade and received hot, remarkably tasty meals. If looks could kill, the nearby passengers would have turned us into smoldering ashes.

When we hit customs, we of course told them where we had been and where we were going. We had cleaned our boots in England, but not to the satisfaction of Canada Customs. We spent the next two hours using every available tool such as screwdrivers and tweezers, picking at our wellies, and then dipping them in antiseptic. Our friend Rose, who was picking us up at the airport, had no idea what had happened as we weren't allowed to use our cell phones. Three hours late, we finally emerged to the relief of Rose, who had loyally hung around, phoning everyone she knew to see if anyone had heard from us. (Note to self, scrub boots using a heavier brush next time.)

Returning home was bittersweet, without the loving face of Oscar to greet us, but the Border Collies that had stayed home made up for it with many wagging tails.

So ended our trip, a wonderful adventure with many great memories and new friends.

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Tuesday 4 September 2012

Sad day

The hard part about these trips is you are leaving so much behind at home and only through the kindness of good friends can it be done. Just before we left, our old livestock guardian dog, Oscar, seemed to be developing a mild cough, but I had a bad feeling about it, as he had been on and off a bit for the last year. He was 12, a ripe old age for a dog with a lifestyle that generally allows for a life expectancy of around 8 years.

Oscar had been going down fast while we were away, and despite good friends who are vet techs, giving prednisone and other care to try to help him make it until we got home, a couple of days ago it was time to say goodbye. I haven't wanted to write until today, as I was having trouble wrapping my head around it. We have not had good luck with livestock guardian dogs (LGD) on these UK trips, losing our other 8 year old last year around the same time.

Oscar was one of those dogs who could look terrifying when necessary, almost 100 pound of solid muscle, and would take a coyote on without hesitating, and yet was a gentle giant. He knew the difference between a hunting coyote, a Border Collie doing his job, and a young pup who had got in amongst the sheep. Oscar knew who belonged on the farm, friends and students welcome...yet shady characters were chased off without hesitation. He made friends with nervous or aggressive dogs, they never tried him on or questioned him. His body language just communicated confidence. Yet his quiet, but deep lion growl would teach a young pup quickly about manners with no fuss and no muss.

Oscar knew when you were trying to help him. This dog who could've ripped me apart in seconds let me pull porcupine quills from his muzzle without protest.

He lived full time with the sheep, rain or snow or heat, and always did his job well, protecting the livestock and the farm. His final job this summer was to teach the ropes to his young sons.

Thank you Oscar and rest easy. Your work is done. We will see you at the Rainbow Bridge again someday.


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Sunday 2 September 2012

I'll give you a big price...

We only managed the trial in Scotland yesterday, after being quite lost and asking directions at a local castle (doesn't everyone?). When we saw the bog at the gate (at the bottom of the field, we had to drive to the top and it was really wet), we decided our rear-wheel drive (with no weight in the back), bald tires rental vehicle would never make it, and it would be less embarrassing to climb a few walls than to get stuck at the only gate to the field in full view of everyone.

We parked in a remote area, in the entrance to field with the skeleton of an old stone house still standing. After climbing a gate, walking through two steep fields, avoiding some stinging nettles and a rather feisty bull, and making a dash up the trial field in between runs, we finally made it to the top.



Little Dyna has been a superstar everywhere we go, running well and catching everyone's eye. This trial was no different. After her run, famous handlers came up and asked about Dyna's breeding, who had trained her and so on. Mary Lou has even had a few proposals, from big money for Dyna to an offer to come along too.

The wind was very strong during our runs in particular, so strong in fact that the pen door rope ripped through my hand, leaving me with a burn. Needless to say, the flapping gate didn't make friends with the sheep, not an ideal time to run, although I should have managed it anyway, having the sheep in the gap three times. People here even make charts so they know when the sheep will run best and run their best dog then, usually running their other dog in the morning to get a feel for the course. The sheep are often taken off the fells just for the trials, as was the case this day, and don't see a lot of dogs at all throughout the year. Penning is much more of a rarity at many of these trials. Linda and Bet had a very good go however, getting a 76 during very difficult running. The evening was gorgeous, as we worked our way back to the car.



Today's trial was up in the Lake District, judged by Katy Cropper. Herdwick sheep, with some Swaledale mixed in, and yet another stream for sheep to take shelter in. All the dogs again ran well, and I was thrilled to pen today as the sheep were not penning at all. We met a really neat man, who had owned and shepherded the nearby fells, with up to 8 dogs at one time, all under full control while basically mountain climbing. The stories were absolutely amazing. We actually had an offer to go gather the fells, but we all wanted to go home with our dogs intact.

We did some good shopping at the fair, and then another nice fellow told us to take a more scenic route home, and although the road was at times terrifying (in the picture, that slight ridge in the distance is the road and it is much further down than it looks), the view was some of the most spectacular scenery we've ever seen.






The next few days we will be starting to turn our focus back to heading home.

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