She had some urination problems - on the bed (of course, right where I sleep), and on the sofa - though the latter was only a fraction of what she took care of in the bedroom. I'm thinking it has something to do with her feeling quite frail, and not wanting to hazard the steps with ice on them...I'm hoping.
She's 15 1/2, and still in pretty good shape! We played chase last night (instigated by her), and she really went into the treats! Yesterday she shadowed a beagle - the same one she seems to want to get a hold of every time he comes to the park...When he's near, she becomes quite lithe and limber. Probably something to do with hormone rush.
So, this morning, the streets were slick, as were the walkways. Yet, I knew I had to drive to the coast - Cannon Beach - to meet with the tenant at the cabin the family has there. I was a little leery of walking the four of them, thinking it would be somewhat treacherous - but they were going to be in the car with me driving, so nothing could be more hazardous than that. Right!?
Skally spent a goodly time in the front yard when we awoke around 445am. All four pups are really good about going out in front (Syd and Cubby were notorious for running off and exploring to see just how big and grand the world was - but not these guys.) and staying within sight. Samson went with her once or twice (yes, it was cold out, and I left the front door & screen door open for them, so I wouldn't have to drag my robed self into the throes of such chilliness), and Rusty went, then came bouncing back in, barking and barking! Even Simon awoke and arose earlier than usual this morning, and went out on his own.
After we'd eaten, I took them up the street and back around through the greenspace (I cannot explain it, without using more time, but you'd still be confused if I did) and back home again - a 15 minute walk. We then grabbed gear and jumped in the car to hie to the beach!
Simon sat in front. Later Samson would join him. Rusty sprawled across the back seat and Skally stuck her majectic head out the window, while she stood on the armrest of the back passenger side door. Sometimes I realize this is something that really wears her down, but it also gives her great joy. She's old. Got it?! She has done this for the past 15 years, and it's doubtful it will kill her. Samson popped his head in and out of the back driver's side window (he figured out the buttons for the up/down of the window over a year ago. Rusty uses this for his own pleasure - and loves it when Sammy is in back with him).
The fog was icy and the roads were slick - especially the highway. Traffic moved pretty well, and we made it down to the coast in good time. The sun had broken through, and though it was still somewhat cold, the brightness made up for the chill.
I met with the tenant, and then the dogs went with me for a walk. A walk to the beach.
It was odd, though. When we entered the town of Cannon Beach, Simon perked up. I don't know that he'd ever been to the coast before in his 6 years. Samson had been once before, and loved it. Rusty had been twice.
Rusty's first trip was not long after I'd adopted him. He was still in shabby shape. When Skally and I had gone down on the sand, and I'd taken off their leashes, Rusty dropped down and just watched. It was difficult to get him up, and then walking continuously - his weight and his health were horrendous, and he did his best to attempt keeping up. His second trip, he had more energy, but he was still somewhat large, and we had gone down onto Crescent Beach, which is just north of town. He did quite well, but spent the majority of time lying next to me or walking when I walked. Today, though, he was up, alert, and excited.
Skally, even in her somewhat chilled condition from having her head too long in the frigid breezes, was happy. How could she not be? This was the BEACH! Disneyland for Dogs!
We walked the block to the beach from the house, and once unleashed, Simon took off loping (he's a bit too big to really run that much), Samson flew down the sand, Rusty ran toward the water with Skally following.
They found a log, and then another, and another. They found kelp, branches, little dots of whatever. They put their heads against the lovely breeze that blew, keeping the temperature a little cool, but not chilly.
AS a pack they moved hither and thither. Samson ran up and down, sniffing a sand castle near Elk Creek (now dubbed Ecola Creek), and Skally threw herself into the icy waters, drinking with relish. Rusty and Simon stuck close to me, as I walked at a goodly gait.
They met other dogs, and nary a growl or bark was heard (odd for Rusty!). We went all the way up past town to the elementary school on the beach, and then back down to iconic Haystack Rock.
We met all kinds of people who seemed to stare at this man with 4 leashes about his neck, and 4 happy, contented and well-mannered pups (like I said, Crack!) walking about him, stopping only to sniff, be petted, investigate and trot quickly away from the waves that occasionally crept up in their way.
Skally began to drag. It was obvious she was feeling the drive - her hind legs support the majority of her weight in the car because of the need to have her head out. But she was smiling. This was good.
I had to take them on this trip - I don't know how much longer my Skally will endure, and as her early life (until she was about 8) had 2-weeks at the beach every summer, and many many weekends, as well, I felt neglectful about having waited a 1.5 years to bring her back. Her demeanor was of gratitude and fulfillment.
When we returned to the house, all 4 pups jumped into the car - and promptly fell asleep. Simon in the front with his chin propped upward on the glove compartment, his front legs dangling in front; Skally with her head regally preening out the window; Samson and Rusty curled up next to her in the back seat.
I'm not sure what it is about the beach. There's something. When we used to drive through Puget Sound, there wasn't any of the excitement, or the wonderment. Cubby, my schipperke who passed first, used to go crazy in the car once we drove into town - but on Hood's Canal, and even on the Straits of Juan de Fuca, he showed an interest, but not the "need to have it" craze like a crack addict.
Is it the sand? The water? The smells of all the history of the depths that washes ashore? The freedom of being able to gad about in the sand, encountering new dogs, new people, new smells and sensations? The feel of the sand underpaw? I really don't know. I do know, though, that with this type of daytrip comes happiness and joy for my pups. That's all I need.
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