ALPHA MALES DON'T WEAR BOOTIES:



THE ALPHA MALE IN WINTER

When we brought our funny little English Cocker Spaniel into our family, in his own puppy way he let all persons and beasts know he was the Alpha male... and that he has remained. It's like he said to us, "Hello, I'm Alpha Male." And we said, "We're going to call you Bear!" And he said, "Good name for an alpha male. I'll take it!" He's never feared me, but if anything happens to upset me, he's the first to be concerned. One time when I was so upset because I erroneously thought a close friend had died... as she was so expecting to die soon she was going on to hospice, but because of a mixup I thought she hadn't made it. I bawled out loud... something I NEVER had done in front of the dogs. Bear was so concerned and gentle, he made valuable points that day. So, alphas have their good points.

Well, his Alpha rank means he MUST stay ahead of everyone, and he usually does. I was talking with a girlfriend about cross country skiing and she said how her dog used to step on the backs of her skis any time she went skiing. I said I was surprised, as my dogs learned early... they don't like that feeling of the ski moving under their feet. But today, I realized that the only reason Bear doesn't do that is because he's always ahead, or battling to get ahead... To be the LEAD.

I've taken them for three short walks today first up the path/hill to the hedgerow and back; the secondd walk was along the middle trail along the hillside, returning on the upper trail; and this evening, we went up to the hedgerow, then into the field, walking parallel to the hedgerow's end, then back through the hedgerow, then down the ATV path. The walks have been short so the dogs won't get frostbite on their paws with this extreme cold. Bear won't bite at his paws if he's carrying a stick, and he had carried a very difficult one to get at. You see, it has to be a challenge. He held on to this stick as we were going through the hedgerow, and I felt pressure on my skis... then there is a brace against the back of one of my knees, as he is stuck between a bush and myself, and needed to pass.

I realized then the only reason he doesn't think anything about stepping on the skis, but doesn't do it because he's usually always ahead of me. Now I have enough paths so if he stops to de-ice his paws, I can choose a different trail, and that I did going down the hill today... a good thing too, as he couldn't wait until he got home to stop and chew. I snow-plowed down the ATV trail, and went around the coop to see how the one chicken is doing.

Cross Beak is in a well insulated coop... meaning all seams and spaces where air can get through are stuffed with plastic bags--a great way to recycle them... no drafts. But she's lonely. I think she semi hibernates, as she sleeps most of the time, and when offered doesn't seem to care for her meat supplement, which I think is normal, as chickens can't find worms and insects in the winter anyway, so it's off their diet for the season. They are lethargic with the season and expend very little energy. I have the coop wired, so she has her heated water dish [with a flat rock taking up much of it as I've had mice and little birds needlessly drown in the water when it's opened during the day when the temperature is a little warmer]. With this really cold weather, I've put in a red brooder bulb in the light socket. It really seems to warm up the place enough so she is comfortable. I added up the KWHs cost, and for me it's worth the small amount to have her comfortable all alone in the coop.

Anyhow, today I thought she'd been penned up too long, so I took off my skis and went in to see her... I unzipped my jacket, tucked her inside loosely just holding her with the jacket hanging over her and took her across the yard to see the cows. ... Just to get outside and get a little fresh air... wondering if they suffer from Seasonal Affective Disorder... Animals probably do... and probably that's why they hibernate. I wouldn't be surprised if the caveman didn't semi-hibernate for most of the winter, just taking turns to keep the fire going, but spending most of the dark and cold winter days under furs... sleeping. Returning CrossBeak to her coop, I then got the dogs back into the house before their feet could freeze... And give the dogs a bone... making sure Bear get the first one... Alpha's have to be first in EVERYTHING.

THE BEAR'S PAUSE:

Being FINALLY able to cross country ski again, I was in heaven today... not too cold, and the skiing was great... at least up to the lake. Poor Bear has problems with ice clinging between his toes. He's usually good until we get up to Cranberry Lake, and once I see him pulling the ice from his paws, I yell at him, "Don't chew! Get a stick!" If he keeps a stick in his mouth then he can't get his paws wet chewing out the ice, which of course makes matters worse. So today was no different in that way.

To get the dogs to hurry home I promise dog bones. BUT, Bear kept pausing on the path, making it difficult for me to ski without skiing into him. I'd have to part my skis and go over him. So I'd yell, "Watch out!" as soon as he'd pause to clean the ice from between his toes. This happens over and over when we're walking or I'm skiing and I try to him moving.

Then, when the last stretch was all downhill, and he was way ahead, he settled at the bottom of the hill to chew out the ice. I yelled, and yelled, but he continued to chew until before he knew it I had skied over him, my skis astride, only, OOPS, I fell into the fluffy snow, which actually felt great... like falling back into feathers. It was a good thing I hadn't fallen ON Bear, but he seemed concerned more about me. While in the process of getting up to standing position again, I find myself asking him, "Why do you have to stay on the trail--the snow isn't that deep?"

He just licked my face, and then went back to de-icing his paws.

I realized today that one of the reasons I was so tired after doing the Home Delivered Meals route is that I was so afraid of slipping on the ice under the snow. Next time, if it's still icy, I'm going to bring along my ice walkers, as well as my ski poles, ... I haven't taken a walk around here without both the ice walkers and the poles since the ice storm we had earlier this week. Without them I am so tense and careful, that it takes a lot of energy, and isn't at all fun. I usually enjoy the challenge of the route in the roughest weather. I'm going to get some strap on ice walkers, as the rubber stretch on type tend to fall off and are too difficult to take off or put on. One came off during the course of the walk Thursday and today when wearing them, when taking the dogs for a walk. Even with only one on helps... but without them, I expect to slip and my body prepares for it with each step.

Even the dogs have a problem getting up a hill that has broken in tracks of deer or boot tracks for them to gain a little resistance from slipping backwards. Having four legs to the ground isn't too bad if they slip... at least they aren't going to fall down. Today Bear was again challenging himself. He likes to carry long, long branches through the woods to see if he can get them by the trees yet stay more or less on the path. I tried to make a video of him doing just that for YouTube, but couldn't get it to work, but put my attempt on YouTube (with the first video I took with my camera, and my first try at uploading it to YouTube. One can see it at http://ca.youtube.com/watch?v=lUcDidjFxM8&feature=email )

(At least I think that will get you to the video.) Anyhow, I would have loved to get the video of him today. Bear found a branch buried in the ice and snow, and tries to wrestle it out of the snow, at first just breaking off a piece about a foot long. That wasn't good enough. He wrestles with the rest and manages to break the ice and snow hold, and, though not 8' long, it was like a huge sling shot, with him holding the one of the top Y parts, with the other dangling down underfoot. But he managed to walk proudly carrying it while his stubby tail was wagging with pleasure. He was happy. He had met the challenge... all by himself. When I tried to get him to pick up an 8' long branch for my video, he didn't want ME to tell him what to do, and grabbed a smaller branch, but HIS choice.

Bear was doing fine along the lower path with his giant sling-shot type branch, until he wanted to go to the upper path. Of course, he couldn't get any foothold on the ice under the snow, so I placed one of my ski-poles into the snow under him so the pole braced his butt, and he got up a little further, then I placed the pole again, bracing his butt, and he got to where he could deal with the underlying ice as it leveled off, but... of course... there were little saplings in his way, and he got stuck because his stick wouldn't fit through. I kept yelling, "Go a little to your LEFT.... A LITTLE TO YOUR LEFT." And, by golly, he moved his head a little to the left, and got through to the other path to continue proudly carrying his stick as we finished our trek to Cranberry Lake. Now... Where was my camera then!! It would have been a great video. I shouldn't leave home without it.

FIRST DAY BACK FOR HOME DELIVERED MEALS:

BOY! I forgot how difficult delivering meals is out in the boondocks. I must say I miss my Santa Fe. In my Elantra, if I need to pass someone on these back roads, with the snow over the ice and a sprinkle of grit in the middle of the road, that little car probably would get stuck... and I almost did in a few places. I had 10 customers... a lot for a rural route. There was a dirt road hill that doesn't just slop downward from the main paved and salted road, but it plunges downward. However, it was well sprinkled. I put the car in LOW and pussy-footed down the precarious slope. The driveway on the left, where I was to turn-in, was not sprinkled, but no problem as it was level, and the steep driveway off that main driveway to the house at the top was well sprinkled... I could drive right up to their kitchen door. However, the backing down was another story. I don't put it in reverse on icy roads in the winter, as sometimes it causes the car to slip, so I keep it in neutral, and slowly release the brake. This time, however, all I needed to do was get the wheels just slightly off the double line of grit and slid backwards. I quickly managed to get back on the grit, and turn back so I could go out to the steep road without getting stuck. I had no problem driving up the steep road to the safety of the paved road. BUT, just as I got to the top a car was coming, so I had to stop. And, yes, that's right, after the car leaves, my cars wonderful new snowtires spun like a top going nowhere... However, I let the car go back a few feet which gave the front tires some grabbing power on the gravelly grit, and managed to get back on the safety of a dry paved road.

The NEXT house was where a woman is wheelchair bound, and when I knocked on the door, she said to yell for Elaine. I yelled, "ELAINE!" I rang the bell, and I knocked. The customer said for me to wait a minute, so I did. I stood in the hallway, and heard her hustle and bustling, and, Who answered the Door... But the woman herself, not her aide, Elaine. She was holding on to the knob for dear life. I said, "Do you want to take my arm?..." She said, "Yes," hesitatingly. I made my arm as rigid as an iron rail, she grabbed on, took two steps and fell back into an easy chair with a heavy grunt. Elaine came out from the other room. The handicapped woman begins to yell at Elaine, who is saying she was in the laundry room with the washer and dryer running and couldn't hear a thing. ...Things weren't going all that well.

For my next stop I knew the street, but the place was a new one to me. I was to go to a gray house, which was the ONLY gray house on the block, so things were looking up. The directions said that the apartment was on the side, Apt. 3. I hoped there wouldn't be a glare of ice under the snow as I walked along the side of the house. There was no apartment on that side, but one in the back. I kept going around the house walking like every step may be my last, and saw a door with a small sign on it, and went up the icy lawn by stamping through the ice under the snow to gain some hold on the side of the sloping lawn. The door said, "Knock on the front door." Duh! I went to the front where I'd started out, in the front door without knocking, and there on the left: a door with a big "3." Before I even knocked, a nice lady aide answered, and got talking about the ice and how she fell the other day. At least I know how to get in the next time.

Though on a fast road, and having to back out of her driveway, the next customer was no problem.... on to the next. I recognized this one from before. An elderly Reverend lives there with his wife, and his walkway was BARE of snow or ice. The person I least expected to have it clear was the best walkway yet. He even came back out with me to make sure there was no ice that I'd slip on though I reassured him his walk was the best kept yet.

The next person was supposed to be on a road I'd never been on. I had NO idea where this road was. All I had to go on was some sketchy directions, where one road led to another on which I was supposed to go left, to another road on which I was supposed to turn right, with no mention of how far between each road. Finally I find the road, and turn right. Next directions were: "Trailer with handicapped ramp on hill on left." There was a trailer on the corner to the left, so I was going to go up and ask, as it wasn't on a "hill," but a car came down the road, so I flagged him down and asked where this customer lived. He said there's someone with that name first trailer on the "right" I went on to the first trailer on the right, and no one was home. I went back to the car and checked the notes... there was no handicap ramp. The NEXT trailer had one, so I went there. I thought, "I had arrived", but NO. She wasn't the person, and when I asked where that customer lived, she said, "4th trailer down on the left". I went on for what seemed like a miles further... you know how that is when you are in strange territory. I wasn't seeing any trailers... Some people call mobile homes trailers... some that don't even look like trailers. This must have been the case. Finally I see a trailer with a gray wood front and an long winding handicap ramp but way up a snowy hill to my left. On the down side of the trailer was a sloping an over 200 yard driveway was not sanded, so I had to walk up from the road. I pulled my car off enough so others could get by, and walked up the snowy slope trying not to slip on some ice under the snow. I was so relieved when the person who answered the door was the customer for whom I'd been searching. On the way down, the most precarious slope when it comes to ice, as your momentum is already lending itself to slipping, I spied some footprints in the snow... BIG sunken frozen footprints that made me think of the "Footprints in the Sand" picture with the poem, and wondered why I hadn't seen them when going up the hill--as if they suddenly appeared for me to safely walk back to my car. I said a prayer of thanks.

"I measured, folks, and this trailer on the left, was one whole mile in on road I'd never been on. They could have said it had a gray front as well. In my 16 years of off and on driving for Home Delivered Meals, this was the worst set of directions yet.

Anyhow, now I know where everybody lives on the route, and hopefully the weather won't be so frightening on wheel and foot as it was today. Back at the Senior Center, I went in, sought out the ladies room before I'd burst, then put in my hours and mileage. While I was in town, I was going to do some shopping before going home, but was just too exhausted and went directly home instead. Upon arrival, I think I was happier to see the dogs than they were to see me, and they were jumping around like crazy. My husband is now out doing the shopping... Well, he had to go into town anyway, so... "While you're there, Tom..." (You know the drill.)

I really looked forward to doing Meal delivery... to driving on the narrow but beautiful winding roads of Pennsylvania, and it's a good thing I really want this, as today was a BUMMER!

Why I am like My Dogs

I used to think "Why can't I be like the dogs when thinking about age, as they don't know they are getting old. They just enjoy the now." But I realized that IS my problem. I don't ever think of myself as my age... ONLY when I look in the mirror, catch my reflection or see a picture taken of me. And that's wonderful, isn't it? It means I don't have that many reminders when it comes to stiffness and limitations of age. So, I guess to get used to my aged looks (NOT my age, as I'm not going to slow down) I even posted it on the side of my main page of my blog and updated my profile. Hopefully even if I turn into a "prune," I will still, at the age of 90, be able to cross country ski. ...That is, when the elements permit. It's still a glare of ice hidden under a "confectioner's sugar frosting"..., so here's trekking it with my ice walkers strapped to my boots. It's a good life!! ...As long as you know that looks aren't everything! [Sorry I've been so shallow when it comes to my vanity.]

Today is so icy even the dogs don't want to be out in... or should I say on it. The freezing rain is just making them wet, and although they have natural "ice walkers" on their toes, Bear's are so worn down the don't help, but his young exuberance doesn't make this a spoiler. He's finally OUT with MOM! Something he usually has to beg for all morning long... though we got back at noon anyway. Polly's front paws point out in a coy Basset hound fashion... no good for grabbing the ice.

We started late, so Bear probably thinks it's morning, as he didn't scold me for leaving so late--he usually barks at me as if to say, "IT'S ABOUT TIME, and other choice words... probably "dog swears." While Bear is hopping around ignoring the slippery ice even if one or another foot slips in the process, Polly was the one following my trail with my heavy boots and ice walkers where my cracking the icy surface helping her footing. On the way back... down the hill... the last lap being the most precarious for her--she doesn't like to slip, and is very conscious of anything that can injure her and avoids it to a fault. She spots an old telephone pole laying on the edge of the field on our downhill slope (covered with black ice). Tom had brought in for lining some garden that never came to be or something of that sort. Polly has no trouble balancing on logs and sees that as an easy way to save a few icy steps... "No Polly!" It's too late, and she puts on a clownish ice dancing show for less than two long seconds before slipping off, and I laugh. She just goes on in her dignified way. She was glad to get home. With the ice walkers and a heavy jacket, I was fine, but it was a glum and dreary day. It's still good to get out and clear my head... both literally and mentally. One of my New Year's Resolutions will be to take a walk first thing. For me it's the best therapy.

Good Luck to everyone in 2009

Cranberry Jo