Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr........

Aggression is one of the catchwords of our modern world.  I have, over the last years, had a lot of questions on the subject of aggression in dogs.

In centuries gone by, people didn’t worry about being called aggressive.  They did what they had to in order to protect their loved ones and their property, and that could mean the necessity for aggression in greater or lesser degree.  It was not that they preferred to behave that way, but that was one of the necessities of life and survival.

In our modern world, we have developed other and, we hope, more effective ways of dealing with our problems than blatant aggression – or perhaps we have learned to disguise our aggressions behind a camouflage of manners and proper behavior and legal systems and such.  We teach our children that aggression is not the solution and that they should not beat up the other kids in their class.

We also expect that our dogs should behave and never be aggressive.  But we neglect to consider a number of factors – aggressive behavior is part of the language of the dog, they don’t have words to express these things.  This behavior  can look extremely aggressive to those of us who don’t really understand, but in fact it is communication.  Dogs are equipped by nature with tools that are meant to support this behavior.   Although we educate our children how to behave in ways that will allow them to communicate effectively and circumvent the necessity of aggression, we often don’t do the same for our dogs.

There are many different breeds of dog in the world, a very great percentage of them being dogs that we have created, through selective breeding over a period of, in some cases, even thousands of years, to suit our way of life.  They were bred to perform a wide variety of tasks, which required a wide variety of behaviors.

My collies, who were originally bred to be sheep dogs, to be gentle with the lambs and kind in their work, and that never had to be aggressive in protection of the flock, since they developed in an area where there were no large and vicious predators, are not aggressive.  They are outgoing, friendly, playful, and nurturing to people and to other animals, and for them meeting another dog means a possibility of a new friend and a lovely romp.  I would never breed from a collie that was aggressive, as this is completely opposed to what the breed is supposed to be.

The Canaans, however, are different.  I myself have learned a great deal over the years that I have lived with them, and one of my conclusions is that first of all, we must stop calling them “wild” dogs.  Dogs by definition are not wild animals.  There are no dogs that are wild, all dogs, even dingoes, which are the most shy and difficult to keep as pets, have a natural tendency and connection that draws them to the vicinity of man and makes it possible to easily build up a mutual relationship.  Having had a number of dogs, over the years, that were brought to me as totally “wild” adults, I can testify to their immediate interest and willingness to relate to me.  The Canaans can more accurately be called feral, free living or pariah dogs, but they are dogs, not wild animals.

Wild animals also are not indiscriminately aggressive. Aggression can be very dangerous and can result in injury, also to the aggressor, and therefore damage the possibilities of survival. 

Dogs that  are free living have to use aggression to survive, to protect themselves, their pack mates, their territory and their resources.  The amount of aggression used is the amount that is necessary to achieve the necessary goals, and in most cases it is much more a show than actual aggression.  It is communication – we may threaten someone verbally, shout, gesticulate, without doing more, and a dog may threaten with facial expression, bared teeth, body posture, growling and snarling, and never more than that.  The understanding is there.

There are many different kinds of aggression – territorial, resource guarding, protection of puppies, position in the hierarchy, sexual competition, and so on.  The levels of aggression and causes can be widely varied, but the language is the same.

In Canaans, this language is very well developed and full of many subtleties that we are not even aware of, but it is definitely part of the breed character and is used to the degree that the dogs feel necessary and appropriate to the situation.

We humans are probably one of the most aggressive species in existence.  But we teach our children from a very young age that these impulses must be controlled and that there are alternatives that are just as effective and even more so than the use of violence.  Our dogs, when raised and educated properly, and when related to correctly, also can learn very effectively to control aggressive impulses and to use alternative behaviors. 

However, we must always consider the breed and the background of the dog, and never be complacent, with the idea that every pet must be sweet and passive under all circumstances.

Out of the many different breeds available to us, if you want a dog that is soft, sweet and never aggressive under any circumstances, you have a wide choice of breeds that are like that.  Why on earth should you choose a Canaan and then try to make him something he isn’t?

More Canaan Journeys - The Beast of War

Over the years, I had a number of dogs that had roles in plays, movies, or commercials.  It was very challenging, and as long as it was only once in a while, it was fun – I would never dream of doing it as a major full time job!

The biggest film project that I was involved in was an American movie made in Israel in 1987 called “The Beast of War.”  It had a real Hollywood cast – Steven Bauer, Jason Patric, George Dzundza. The story was about the war in Afghanistan, and, as at the time filming a movie in Afghanistan was not highly recommended, it was decided that Israel was similar enough in terrain and modern enough in facilities to be an excellent substitute.

The script had a number of scenes that involved a pack of jackals or wild dogs.  The film company soon discovered, on their arrival in Israel, that a pack of trained jackals was not readily available (surprise, surprise!)  However, it was suggested to them, by someone highly intelligent I am sure, that a pack of Canaans might just suit the purpose.

I was contacted and requested to bring one of the Canaans to an audition in one of the fanciest hotels in Tel Aviv. The hoteliers were not enthusiastic when I showed up in the lobby with a dog.  But film companies spend a lot of money in hotels like that, and we were allowed up to the director’s room so he could see the dog.

I had brought Yitzhar with me, since he was the wildest appearing of the dogs.  Yitzhar had a very penetrating and wolf-like stare that could be very discomforting.  The director was indeed impressed, and I was hired to provide a pack of five dogs to work in the movie.

This was not a simple task.  Getting five Canaans to work together, off lead, and in some scenes from a long distance, without them deciding to have a free-for-all in the middle, was not easy.  The pack consisted of three bitches and two dogs, all of which were already obedience trained, and which, fortunately for me, already had experience working together from a previous movie we had done.  So after a short refresher course of who was the boss, we were able to get down to business.

The actions that were required of the dogs were not easy.  The story involved a Russian tank crew that gets lost in the Afghanistan desert, and the dogs track them.   There was even an attack scene involved.  This was of course the hardest to train the dogs to do, as Canaans are not the type of dog to attack without a good reason. I knew that I would not get the dogs to really attack on command, and I had no desire, really, to encourage the dogs to bite.  I decided that the best way to accomplish this scene was with food.  I explained to the film company just what equipment I needed for the training, and they promised to provide it.

One evening late, my daughter Dorcas and I arrived home from an evening out, and, to our horror, found a man’s body lying on the porch in front of the door.  After the first shock, on closer inspection, we found that it was a human sized dummy (at least six feet tall) dressed in a Russian army uniform, exact in every detail down to the boots.  This was to train the dogs.

The method was simple.  In the film, the dogs were meant to jump up and attack a man who was left tied out on a huge rock.  So I tied the dummy up on a terrace of about the right height, and started to hide tasty pieces of sausage in its clothes and boots.  The dogs quickly learned that they would find treats if they starting searching the dummy and they quickly learned to do this with great enthusiasm, leaping up on the dummy and competing with each other to find the sausage.  As I hid the treats inside the clothes and boots, and inside pockets, they learned that they would have to grab, pull, and even tear the clothes to obtain their goal.  On camera, I knew, this food-digging would look like a real attack.  As the dogs were competing with each other, they also growled and snarled, which made it all look very authentic.

Finally, rehearsals were over and the time had come for filming.  The movie was being made near Eilat, and we stayed on location.  The scenes with the dogs were expected to take about a week to film.

The location was out in the desert.  For the Canaans, it was like coming home; they immediately felt perfectly comfortable.  It was very hot already in May, with the temperatures already close to the summer maximum.  This didn’t bother the dogs. As we sat around waiting for our scenes, they dug themselves deep holes under the scrubby bushes in the vicinity and lay there comfortably sheltered from the heat and glare.  Being Canaans, they also very quickly took possession of the territory, and would not allow other crew members to approach “their” bushes.

The dogs, of course, were physically in very good condition with thick shiny coats since most of them had a career in the dog show ring.  The director felt that they looked too good for the role; they needed make-up!  The movie’s make-up expert was not enthusiastic about the idea; she had worked on all kinds of actors, but never on a dog!  However, she had no choice, and the dogs ended up with all sorts of brown and black powder rubbed into their coats to make them look scruffy.   The filming went well.  I was very proud of the dogs’ performance. 

There were some very difficult scenes.  One was the opening scene of the film, a close-up that showed the dogs sleeping on a ledge in the desert with the sun coming up.  Suddenly, one dog lifts his head and alerts, and then the others also come alert.  This was very difficult for several reasons.  First of all, I had to train the dogs to “sleep,” in other words, to lie flat and still with their eyes closed.  They had to do this even though all the crew and cameras were only a foot or two away.  Another difficulty was to get only one dog to raise his head first, while the others remained “sleeping.”  And the scene had to be shot exactly at sunrise so there was no possibility for numerous retakes.  The dogs performed like troopers and I was tremendously proud of them!

In another difficult scene, I left the dogs with a few of the crewmembers, and I was taken about a kilometer or so away across the desert.  The dogs were let free and I whistled to them, and they came running to me.  The scene beautifully pictured a wild pack running across the wilderness.

Of course, the dogs, like any actors, had their moments of temperament.  It was very hot, the workdays were long, and sometimes the dogs got fed up.  One day, while waiting for a shot to be set up, the two males, Yitzhar and Tiggy, lost patience and decided to have a go at each other.  As I tried to separate them, the bitches, inspired by the boys, decided to join in.  Trying to separate five dogs on your own just doesn’t work!  I called to the crewmembers standing around to come and help.  None of them was willing to get near that snarling mass.  Finally, I just waded in, grabbed a dog, lifted it out, grabbed a crewmember, told him, “Hold on to this dog!” and went back to grab another, in the same way.  In a few minutes, everything was again calm.  The dogs felt better because they had worked the edge off of their nerves, and no one had been hurt.  The crewmembers were not in such good shape, however; it took them a few days to get over the trauma, and I seemed to have gone up in their esteem for being ready to wade into the battle.

On another day, when I was off the set for a few hours, one of the dogs got loose, took possession, and wouldn’t let anyone into “his” part of the location.  For several hours, everyone had to detour around that area, until I got back and called him off.

Finally, we got to the final scene with the dogs, which was by far the most difficult.  This was the “attack” scene.  In this scene, the “hero” of the film is left staked out on a rock in the desert by his fellow soldiers, and the pack of wild dogs, who had been tracking them throughout the movie, find him and start to attack.  The hero manages to save himself by rolling a grenade into the midst of the pack, which explodes and demolishes the pack.

As is obvious from this description, this scene was not likely to be something the dogs would enjoy doing.  Of course, the “explosion” of the grenade was simply a harmless smoke bomb.  But I knew that the dogs would not at all appreciate having even a harmless smoke bomb exploding at their feet, and I had warned the director that this had better be the last scene the dogs were expected to do, because after this, they would not have fond memories of the set or the people involved.  I also warned him that they had better get it right on the first take, as there was no chance that the dogs would agree to participate in a retake.

Everything was set up.  The scene was being played by a stuntman since the star was not about to expose himself to the chance of being bitten by accident.  The stuntman was rather nervous as well. He asked me if I was sure that the dogs wouldn’t really bite, and I assured him that he was safe.  He took up his position on the rock, and I planted sausage in his boots, pockets, and other parts of his clothing.

The dogs hadn’t been fed that day, so that they would be really eager to get the sausage.  We did a rehearsal, and everything went beautifully.  The filming began.  The scene was filmed several times, from different angles, with the explosion being the last shot.  The dogs performed beautifully in the first shots, running up to the rock, leaping up and grabbing the sausage out of the actor’s clothing and boots, which on screen really looked as if they were attacking him.

And then the time came for the last shot.  The smoke bomb was set in place, the cameras rolled, the dogs were released, and BOOM!

The dogs, as one, turned and ran, heading for the distant hills.  No one was going to get another chance to set off a bomb under their feet!  I whistled frantically, and gradually, four of them turned back and returned to their familiar resting holes under the scrub.  But the fifth, one of the bitches, Hava, continued running like a small brown streak of lightning, until she disappeared into the hills.

As this was the last shot on this location, the crew was all packed up now and ready to go home.  There was a van waiting for me, to take the dogs and me home. Our job was finished.  “What are you going to do now?” the driver asked me.  “Wait,” I said.

The other vehicles drove off on their way home.  After an hour or so, the site was abandoned, except for me, the dogs, and the driver, who was not at all happy about the situation.  We all sat there quietly as the sun disappeared behind the mountains.  As the dusk thickened, there was a noise from the direction of the van, which was parked with the door open.  There sat Hava in the van, ready to go home.  Now that everyone had gone and she was sure no one would set off any more bombs, she was ready to come back.

Well, that had been an interesting experience, but I was glad that it was over. Or, I thought it was over.

 About a week later, I got a phone call from the director.  The shots of the attack had been damaged in the developing laboratory and were unusable.  The scene would have to be shot again.  Would I be willing to come down again with the dogs for a few days?

“You must be crazy!” was my first response.  “These dogs are not stupid - they are not going to be willing to get anywhere near the spot where you blew them up!” But this was a critical scene in the movie.  "You have to do it for us." He pleaded. "This is one of the most important scenes in the film!" "But I really don't think the dogs will perform," I answered.  "We'll pay you time and a half if you are just willing to come down and try," he said.  "No, we'll pay you double!" This was very convincing.  "Well, okay, I'll try it," I answered, "but I certainly can't guarantee that you'll get the scene you want."

 So once again the dogs and I arrived down in the desert.  The dogs were definitely unhappy about the idea; the location had very unpleasant associations for them.  However, I had not fed them for a day, and they were hungry, and when I got out those tasty little pieces of sausage, they started to show more interest in the idea. 

Canaans are very much dogs with minds of their own, and cannot usually be “bought” by food.  However, among the five, there was one bitch, Terra, who was a true chow hound willing to do anything for a tidbit, and now she was hungry.  Two of the others were also willing to consider approaching the spot in order to get their treats.  The last two, true Canaans through and through, were very suspicious of the whole thing, and hung back on the fringe of the group, not willing to come up to the rock where terrible things had happened.

I informed the director that this was about as good as it would get.  I also warned him that this time, there was one take only and after that, he didn’t have a chance in hell of ever getting any of these dogs anywhere near this location again.

The take was a success, though in my opinion it was not as good as the first one that had been ruined by the lab.  The dogs took off, but by now, having been through the whole thing before, didn’t run far.

I waited eagerly for the movie to be released. I wanted to see the results of all this hard work.  But “The Beasts of War” was not a great success in the U.S., and never got to the movie theatres in Israel.  Finally, after a few years, it came out on video, and I managed to get a copy.  I thought it was a pretty good movie, actually, and I was really proud of the dogs.  They looked great on screen!  All of the several weeks of work, of course, came down to a few minutes of screen time - but I was proud of it!

The movie has now been showed on Israeli TV, though I don’t think anyone realized that those are Canaans “starring” in it…

For those who have enjoyed this entry, it is an excerpt from my book, "Tails of Shaar Hagai" - many more stories like this....

More Canaan Journeys

A few more stories of Canaans that came home…

Pashosh was a puppy that we brought back from the desert on one of our trips, along with his brother, Pereh (who is one of Habibi’s grandfathers).  The two tiny puppies were pulled out of their den under an old oil barrel when they were about five weeks old and handed to us by the Bedouins.  And of course we took them – even though we were of course interested in having them, if we had not taken them, they most likely would have been killed.

I couldn’t keep two more males, so Pashosh went to a friend who had a few Canaans, loved the breed, and kept them as pets and guard dogs.  He lived on the edge of town and had a large nursery for various types of palm trees, and the dogs had solved the problem of thefts.

Pashosh grew into an excellent guard dog with a very strong temperament.  He was extremely devoted to his owner and family, consisting of his wife, and two grown sons who did not live at home but visited often.  But outsiders were absolutely not allowed.  Pashosh had to be closed in the house or back garden when other people were around.

By the time he was about two years of age, he had a few bites to his credit – not real bites, but nips that showed that he meant business in his job of guarding.  My friend could control him very well, but his wife could not, and was afraid that the result would be more serious.  So the decision was made, sadly, that Pashosh would have to go to a new home.

A  new home was found, with another farmer who wanted a serious guard dog and did not have a lot of people coming around.  Pashosh had never done any travelling in the car, even his vaccinations were done by the veterinarian coming to the house.  So when he was loaded in the car to go to his new home, this was a totally new experience. The new place was about 30 kilometers away.

Two days later, the new owner called my friend to tell him that Pashosh was gone – he had managed to pull his head out of his collar (Canaans are quite expert at this), and had run off.  No one had seen him since, although they had looked.  My friend drove out there and tried calling him and looking for him, to no avail. 

Three weeks later, my friend got up in the morning to find Pashosh, filthy and thin, sitting outside the gate waiting to be let in.  He had come home over 30 kilometers, through an area that he was totally unfamiliar with, and also would have had to cross several major and very busy highways to get there. 

Needless to say, Pashosh was welcomed home and any thoughts of rehoming him were forgotten.

Next case:

Shelley and Dvash were two young Canaan females of about eight months old that I exported to the US, to a breeder friend.  She had been breeding Canaans for several years and had a number of dogs and was well acquainted with the breed and its quirks.  She lived in Massachusetts in a small town, and her house was on the edge of town adjoining a national forest area.  She had a well fenced kennel with big yards for the dogs to run in.

Well, never underestimate a Canaan.  A week or so after the girls arrived at her place, they decided that the call of the wild was too tempting to ignore, dug under the fence and took off to the forest.

Of course, all authorities and people in the vicinity were notified.  My friend got many notifications, “Yes, we have seen the dogs, they are running around in the forest.”  They did not go far, enjoyed being in sight of people, but stayed out of reach – when anyone tried to get close enough to catch them, they laughed and romped off into the trees.  My friend tried calling them, and they laughed at her as well, and would eat the food left for them when there was no one around.  This was fun!  Why come back?

After a few days of freedom, Shelley and Dvash seemed to decide that they had milked all the possibilities of this new life style and it was time to return to “civilization”. The next time my friend came out to offer them food, they came over with wagging tails.  Time to go home…

Then there was Ella.  Ella grew up as the beloved house pet of an elderly woman who lived in a Tel Aviv suburb.  When Ella was 4, the woman passed away.  Ella was rehomed in a moshav about 20 kilometers away, with a family that were very animal oriented, breeding horses, and with another Canaan mix for a companion.  She adjusted very well and was very happy in her new home, and loved by her new owners.

On Yom Atzmaut (Israel Independence Day), it is common, as in most of the “civilized” world, to have fireworks displays.  The following day, Ella’s owner called me to say that she had been terrified by the fireworks and had run away in a panic and couldn’t be found.  This is a very common occurrence, many dogs get lost on the “fireworks holidays”.  He searched the whole area, notified all the vets, put up posters – but all to no avail.  There was no sign of Ella.

Three weeks later, he called to tell me that Ella had come home, thin and dirty, but fine.  He had no idea where she had been all that time, but she was glad to be home.

I am quite sure I know where Ella was.  She was still fairly new in this home, and suddenly there was something terrifying happening.  So the logical thing to do was to run back to her former home, where she had always felt safe.  20 kilometers is not that far, but it can take some time.  When she got there, though, she did not find anyone familiar – her former master was gone, there were new people in the house, and there was no one there to welcome her.  So there was nothing to do but to return to her new home, which now was the most familiar and safe place.  Being a Canaan, she was clever enough to avoid the perils of the journey – highways, strange dogs, strange people, and to get home safely, to owners who were very glad to see her.

Canaans like to make their own choices, but when they choose, they are determined…



Pereh and Pashosh in the Bedouin camp



Canaan Journeys - Kotev

A few days ago, I got a phone call from a veterinarian in a small town about 40 kilometers south of us.  She told me that there was a lost dog that had been taken in by a couple in the town, and they were trying to track him, and from the microchip, they found that he was listed as coming from me.  It was a Canaan, she said, about a year old.

I always make sure that all puppies that leave here are microchipped, so that whatever may happen with them, they can always be traced.  The microchip number is registered with the kennel club, as well as with the licensing authorities here.

As soon as she described the dog, I knew who it was, and when I checked out the chip number, it was verified.  The dog was Kotev, a year old son of Habibi and Lilo.

Kotev grew up here with me and the rest of his Canaan family until he was about six months old.  He then went to someone who seemed to be a good choice for a home for him.   Kotev’s new person was a young man with a small horse farm, who wanted a dog as a companion, to be able to run along with him when he went riding, and who would also guard the property.  He had experience with dogs and very much wanted a Canaan.

The first reports of Kotev in his new home were enthusiastic.  He quickly got acquainted with the horses, was getting bonded to his new owner, and seemed to be making a good adjustment.

Some time passed, and then one day, the young man called to tell me that Kotev had run away.  He couldn’t tell me just what happened, just that he had been letting him run loose around the farm, and suddenly he disappeared.  He had looked for him, and couldn’t find him, and no one around seemed to have seen him.

It is not very unusual for a young dog to become frightened of something and to bolt, but it is very untypical for a Canaan to “run away”.  The usual behavior is for the dog to find a safe place to hide, to wait for whatever was frightening to disappear, and then to come back, or to return when his person goes out calling him.  I am familiar with a number of cases like this.

I notified the authorities and vets in the area, but there was no result.  Kotev had disappeared without trace.

Now, five months later, he had turned up in a town about 25 kilometers from where he had disappeared.

I called the young man and told him that Kotev had been found.  “What do you say!” was his response.  I gave him the phone number of the vet who said she would put him in touch with the people who had him, and told him he could go to take him home.

The next day, the vet called me back.  He had not come to get Kotev, she told me, and she didn’t think he wanted the dog.  I told her I was on my way, I was coming to get him.

The response of the fellow when I called him back was, “Well, my situation has changed meanwhile, and it has been a long time…maybe you can pay me and take him.”  Well, take him I would, there was no question about that, but he could forget about any payment – and there were a few more juicy bits to the conversation relating to someone who wanted to just abandon the dog….

The couple who had Kotev lived on the very edge of the town, adjoining a large area of open fields.  They lived in a small apartment.  I knocked on the door, and Alexandra opened it cautiously.  But before she could even get the door open, Kotev pushed her out of the way and was all over me in total joy, jumping, licking, and like his father Habibi, grabbing my sleeve to pull my hand in his direction.  “I knew you would come,” was what he was saying.

Alexandra and her husband Yaakov are wonderful people.  They have six cats in the house, all rescued from the streets, and some of them with healed injuries that show how hard their previous life was, and another young dog who also is a rescue.  They told me that they would have loved to keep Kotev, but their place is just too small – very true, it is a tiny apartment.  

Kotev apparently turned up some time before in the fields near the apartment.  He wouldn’t let anyone get near him, but Alexandra told me that every day he went to one spot at the edge of the field and sat there waiting, as if he was expecting someone to come for him.  She and others that lived nearby left food for him, but he would only eat when no one was around.

Then the weather started to change and there was a storm.  Yaakov couldn’t bear to see the dog out in the bad weather – and when he approached, Kotev came up to him and licked his hand, and Yaakov brought him back to the apartment. Covered with mud, he willingly presented each foot to be cleaned before he came into the house.

He lived with them until they finally managed, through the chip, to find me.

As I left with Kotev to go home, some of the neighbors stopped me to find out what was happening – worried, perhaps, that Kotev was being taken away by the authorities. They were very happy to hear that he was coming home with me.  They had all become quite fond of him.

Kotev was thrilled to be back in his “childhood” surroundings. His sister Kerrie at first looked at him with great suspicion – “Who are you and what are you doing here???” – but after a few minutes of inspection, realized – “Oh, its you!!!” and the two started happily running around the yard in a game of tag.

There is no way of knowing what happened to Kotev during those months that he was missing, or how he got to that field.  Was he stolen? Was he abandoned?  It is hard to imagine that he ran away and then continued in that direction which is the opposite direction to here – Canaans in general have a very good sense of direction and try to travel, if lost, in the direction of home.  We will never know what really happened, but despite it all, he is still a calm and happy boy, still a bit suspicious of people, whereas in the past he was very friendly, but not frightened, and willing to follow Kerrie’s lead and come up to them.  So he doesn’t seem to have been badly treated or frightened enough to lose his trust in people.  And he seems to have known that in the end, he would not be left abandoned – he would be brought home.

Some days after he got home, Alexandra and Yaakov were visiting in the area, and stopped by to see him.  They were worried that he would not remember them, or now that he was home, would not want to approach them.  But Kotev was thrilled to see them, very affectionate and happy, and when they had to leave, I could see the conflict he had of whether he wanted to go with them or to stay with me.  A testimony to these lovely people and the good care and affection they had given him – a Canaan never forgets.

I cannot keep Kotev forever, having another adult male here is a problem.  But there is no way he will go to anyone that has not proven to be worthy of a dog like him…

Mine!

I have spent today watching Habibi try to cope with a very serious problem.

I have had a house guest for the last few days.  Knowing this is a doggy house, she didn’t bring gifts for me, she brought dog gifts.  But it would have been impossible to bring something for each of the pack, so she brought a few lovely huge pieces of rawhide, which could be cut up into smaller chunks and given to the dogs.

There were two dog shows this weekend, one for the Canaans and one for the collies, and this was not Habibi’s turn to go, he is already a champion, and is not really crazy about shows, though he tolerates them for my sake.  He does always hate to be left at home when I take other dogs out, though, so in compensation, I gave him one whole huge piece of rawhide, to keep him happy and occupied for the two days of being at home.  Also, I have to admit, as compensation for expecting him to put up with an “intruder” in his house.

When we have guests, Habibi has very strict rules.  They can come in and sit down, and then he sits between me and them and watches.  Should they get up and move around, he will bark at them to inform them that this is not allowed, they have to sit still.  This does not work with people who are staying for several days.  They do get up and walk around, touch things, take food, go to the bathroom – this is very annoying to Habibi.

And then for me to take this person with me, and other dogs as well…!  Hard to forgive!

The rawhide was a high value gift, though, and by the end of the two days, a good portion of it had been chewed up.  But now, I was home, and he was not really interested for the moment in chewing. But it could not be left lying around. Maybe another of the dogs would try to steal it…maybe our house guest would try to take it!  It had to be hidden!

And here was the dilemma – in the house, there is no proper place to dig and bury treasures!

So he has been pacing around the house with the rawhide in his mouth, whining under his breath in frustration, trying to find a safe place to hide it.  He has tried to push it into corners, under the bed, in the bookcase, behind the dog bed…I found it placed carefully on the sofa under the TV blanket. He also gently placed it in the middle of the bed, pressing it down into the soft and resilient quilt, and tried with his nose to cover it with the nonexistent earth. But he is not satisfied with the security of any of these places, and goes back, fetches it, and roams around looking for something better…

So now he is lying in the living room with the rawhide under the coffee table, but within sight, so he can be sure no one touches it.

How hard it is to be responsible for valuable possessions!

Post script:  Habibi managed to hide his treasure.  I looked all over for it, and couldn’t find it. Finally I asked him, “Habibi, where is your bone?”  He went over and showed me – he managed to put it underneath a little wheeled set of drawers in the corner, where there is a knapsack on the floor in front of it.  I would never have found it there!  Of course, now he feels that he has to hide it again…

Second post script:  He has hidden it again. I have no idea where it is, and this time he refuses to tell me…

Why I Hate Winter

I get quite depressed in the winter.  Not that there is a specific cause or a valid reason, but as the days get shorter, somehow my spirits plummet in direct proportion to the diminishing hours of light.

The depression starts at five in the morning.  Five in the morning here is pitch black night.  But for some unfathomable reason, the dogs seem to think that five in the morning in the winter and five in the morning in the summer are the same  – time to get up and start running around.  The dogs outside start to bark and play, and I get poked under my nice warm comforter by a wet, cold, and persistent nose – Habibi agrees, it is time to get up and on the move. “But it’s dark outside”, I grumble, as I try to burrow deeper under the covers.  Useless!  Within seconds, not only is there a nose poking at me, there is a wriggling whole dog. 

Not that I have anything against early morning hours.  In the summer, I am very enthusiastic at being up with the sun.  But in the winter, there is no sun at that hour. And it is cold – maybe not like in the far north, but for me, cold enough, especially when my bed is so nice and warm…Can’t you all wait until six, at least then there is some light…!

And then at four thirty in the afternoon, it is dark again!  The day is already over, when I feel that it has hardly begun, and I have certainly not managed to do the things I was planning to. 

The dogs are perfectly satisfied to go to bed with the daylight, they have been running around all day, since it is cold and fresh and they love it.  Come to think of it, that could be one reason they are up at five…maybe I should go to bed at four thirty also….

I don’t know how you people in Alaska or Finland and places like that survive the winter!

And then, there are two of the most depressing words I know – wet dog.  True that we don’t have as much rain here as in other places, but there is enough to have plenty of days in the winter when I can enjoy that indescribable smell of wet dog… The Canaans are not so bad, they dry off relatively quickly, but when the collies are wet, it takes them a long time to dry.  They are perfectly comfortable, they have their thick undercoats which keep them warm.  But the outer coat can take hours to really dry off, and meanwhile, anyplace in the house that they have decided to lie around on absorbs that dampness, so added to the wet dog, there is also wet carpet, wet dog blanket, wet sofa…

And they look so miserable when they are wet, even though they aren’t!

It isn’t even necessary to mention the mud…

The dogs love the winter. It is cool, the sun is pleasant and not too hot, and they have lots of energy for running around and barking. Habibi loves to get out on the grass with his pack of girls – Tutti, Jenny, Chance, Flash, and they all run with great enthusiasm, stopping to graze on the green grass and tender plants that apparently are very tasty.  He is full of energy and playfulness, bringing me all his toys tirelessly, while I am bundled up in my sweaters and coats trying to keep up with them all, wear them all out, and get back into the relatively warm house.

Well, one good thing – we are almost at the shortest day of the year, so soon the days will start to get longer again, and then it will be spring, and summer…so there is still room for optimism!

Things with Wings

Every self respecting Canaan knows that it is his responsibility to guard his territory, and prevent the invasion of intruders.  That seems to be a very straightforward task.  But sometimes it is not as easy as it sounds.

Habibi is very zealous in his protection of me and what belongs to us (please note, it is not what belongs to ME, it is what belongs to US).  But there is one area that seems to be very confusing, and that is the situation of things with wings.

We have a good number of birds around here, and some of them are very drawn to invading our territory. Habibi is not too worried about the little birds like finches and sparrows.  But anything from the size of a pigeon or larger is another story.

These creatures, as far as he is concerned, are definitely invading our territory.  There they are, inside our boundaries, inside our fence, sitting on our roof!  And he can’t reach them!  He runs around the yard with his nose in the air, pointing at these dangerous beings that are sitting on the telephone wire, barking at them and sometimes taking a jump into the air. But they ignore all his efforts.  Some of them, like the family of crows that come for half the year every summer to raise their new families, laugh at him, sitting up well out of reach and cackling, and sometimes dropping bits of fruit on his head.  Even when he manages to sneak up on a pigeon or crow sitting on the lawn, before he can grab it, it takes off straight up.  This is definitely not fair play!

Then there are the winged things of the night – the moths.  As we sit in the evening quietly watching television, suddenly one of them will coming whizzing around, fluttering across the screen or casting scattered shadows as it flutters around the lamp.  These also usually manage to evade Habibi’s attempts to grab them as he leaps over the furniture in pursuit, and eventually gives up in frustration.

During the summer, there are the bees, butterflies, and flying beetles that make his life a misery as he tries to protect the yard.  Flies seem to be in a different category.  Apparently they are not considered to be territorial invaders, just a nuisance – he will snap at them when they buzz around us, but doesn’t take off in pursuit.

And then there are the helicopters…Yes, once in a while, helicopters fly low over our house – just low enough to make a hellish racket and be clearly visible, so that Habibi believes that if he can just jump high enough he can catch them…So far, no luck – but there is always the next time…

There is one more invader that seems to be hard for Habibi to categorize.  Although they don’t have wings, they spend their time sneering at him from the roof and they drive him crazy.  The cats, of course – we have a number of “outdoor” cats, which we feed, but that are not pets, their job is hunting the various vermin and they do so very efficiently. They are wise to the ways of the world, and do not come into the yard where the dogs are, but they know exactly where the dogs’ boundaries are, and enjoy sitting half a meter away from the fence and calmly washing as the dogs run back and forth looking for a way through.  But what agitates Habibi is that one of their very favorite places is to sit on the roof.  He and the other dogs will stand glaring up at the little mocking faces looking down at them, or the arrogant tail twitch as they walk away, indifferent to barking and leaps in the air.  They are not things with wings, so what are they doing up there?????

How difficult life can be for a Canaan who is simply trying to do his job….