The Further Adventures of Ethan the McNab Puppy

Ethan meets snow.
(c) 2018 MJ Miller

Oh, Ethan, you're growing up so fast. You're not yet five months old but you've already had a brief introduction to snow. You've ridden horseback - on the horse, that is, and you've gone on day trips with me to explore some Arizona back roads.

Ethan and I enjoying a horseback ride.
(c) 2018 MJ Miller

You've gone hiking, and visiting Mom in the care home, and you've charmed the folks at Ace Hardware and Tractor Supply. 

Ethan the ranch dog.
(c) 2018 MJ Miller

You're a big help when I do the morning chores. By "help" I mean grabbing the flakes of hay and playing tug of war with them when I feed ... leaping on and off the hay bales ... playing with the hay twine ... and grabbing the rim of the bucket when I carry grain. A big help. 

Ethan tends the tomatoes.
(c) 2018 MJ Miller

You're also quite the gardener. You inspect the tomato plants with me, and you climbed all the way into the empty compost tumbler to ensure I scraped it out properly before starting a fresh load. 

Ethan's yogurt halo
(c) 2018 MJ Miller

You also help with the kitchen chores. The Greek yogurt on your forehead is the perfect halo for such an angelic pup.

Ethan and I visited the historic Winkelman bridge over the Gila.
(c) 2018 MJ Miller

You've already visited some historic bridges that most people in Arizona never get to see. You walked across the old Daniel Luten bridge in Riverside (Arizona), and the Luten bridge in Winkelman, and you've helped me photograph the abandoned bridge at Ray Junction. You met strangers along the way who pulled over to admire you. Yes, you're irresistible.

Ethan's darker side.
(c) 2018 MJ Miller

But they do not know the pirate that lies beneath that sweet puppyish exterior.  They don't know that you are the stealer of gloves and socks and eyeglasses. They don't know that we call you "Thiefin' Ethan" or that you're a book-chewy face-licky teaser of cats and shredder of toilet paper. They don't know you are the destroyer of lily pads and that you emptied out the rice heat pack I use for my sore neck so I had a kajillion half-burnt grains of rice scattered in my bed and it was like sleeping on sand. I'm still finding them, Ethan. Still.

Froggy lays down some paw law on Ethan.
(c) 2018 MJ Miller

And then, suddenly, there's the day you realize you're no longer the baby in the family. My heart ached for you. You looked so betrayed.

Ethan meets the new filly.
(c) 2018 MJ Miller

But as you grow, you discover the benefits of becoming a young man. You are maturing into a handsome boy.  The ladies love you, Ethan. You are growing from an irresistible puppy into a badass chick magnet. And you're still my baby, now and always.

Ethan the Ladykiller
(c) 2018 MJ Miller

Copyright (c) 2018 Marcy J. Miller * All rights reserved * No part of this content may be used without the express permission of the author, including photographs * I appreciate your links, shares, tweets, +1s, and otherwise helping grow my audience * Most of all, thank you for visiting and sharing my love of McNab dogs!

Meet Ethan

Ethan
(c) 2018 MJ Miller

Several years ago, a cowboy friend in a pick-up truck with a puppy box in back pulled up at our place to say hello. Forty-five minutes later,  he left one puppy lighter than when he'd arrived. That was our first introduction to the McNab Collie breed - and to our beloved pup Earl.

McNabs get under your skin. Their sensitive nature, their loyalty, their intuitive way of learning, and their almost unbelievable intelligence will win the right owner over for life. You can't have just one, even if you only have one at a time. You just can't quit 'em.  

It seemed only fitting Earl would soon be joined by Molly, a prick-eared McNab from Garcin McNab Collies in California, and the two McNabs were joined six months later by Mattie-K8, a Papillon.  Earl's muzzle has long since greyed, largely due to the addition of our first kittens; kittens intimidate Earl, although he doesn't hesitate to chase large bobcats off the property.

When Russ mentioned he wanted to get a "red boy" McNab, I played it cool despite being inwardly giddy. He asked Teri Garcin to let us know when she had a good pup for us. 

Early Sunday morning, we ventured west, puppy crate in car, to pick up Ethan. A thousand miles of road and nearly 18 hours later, we brought one sweet, snuggly pup in to meet the pack.

Molly and Ethan, McNab Collie dogs
(c) 2018 MJ Miller

Ethan is ten weeks old and a solid, sturdy pup with greenish eyes that may lighten to an intense amber. McNabs are generally easy to housebreak, and this little guy is no exception. He's already figured out how to ask to go out. Although the crate is set up in the living room, he's not confined when I'm home and he sleeps in my arms. He keeps up with the morning chores, staying at my side when feeding the livestock. 

The other dogs happily welcomed Ethan. The cats ... not so much. Froggy was first to approach him and lay down some paw-law; this isn't her first puppy rodeo. Hank was, for the first time in his life, frightened - but has since approached for a nose-bump or two, although he's keeping his distance for the most part.  Little kitty waif Lucy, though, is petrified. She's keeping to a tactical advantage from high ground and growls when Ethan ambles into view. Lucy was unfamiliar with dogs when we adopted her from the Humane Society, but has adapted, and with time and patience she will adapt to Ethan as well.  

Mattie-K8 and Ethan
(c) 2018 MJ Miller

Ethan is a quiet pup. His play-growl came out this morning during a pounce-and-run session, but he's yet to bark. He watches and learns by doing so, as McNabs do. Their learning style is visual and independent. Walking up the hill from the barn to the house, I was amused to watch him figure out a solution. He struggled trying to navigate the terrain beside the footpath. You could see his forehead furrow as he watched me and concluded I was having an easier go of it, and he promptly hopped over the rocks and back onto the path. I recall Earl having similar insights as a young dog.

Ethan the explorer
(c) 2018 MJ Miller

And so our puppy journey begins anew. Life's adventures are best with a good dog (or three or four) at your side. We're well equipped with the McNabs and their Papillon mascot!

Copyright (c) 2018 by Marcy J. Miller * All rights reserved * Thank you for linking, liking, forwarding, and otherwise helping grow my readership * Most of all, thank you for stopping by and sharing our love of the McNab dog.

McNabs: Keeping Us (and Themselves) in Stitches

McNabs work hard and McNabs play hard.  Our McNabs also love company and tend to get a bit rowdy. They grab the nearest toy and show off for whomever is coming through the door. Being the tough dogs they are, they don't flinch when they get injured in the heat of the game.

One of Earl's most beloved activities is playing ball. He's an All-American dog, that Earl. His preferred type of ball - simple hollow vinyl balls that are easily carried - don't last long around here. If Earl leaves them in the pasture (he often herds the cattle with a ball in his mouth), the cows will eat them. If he and Molly play tug of war with them - a ball! - they are quickly shredded.  Yesterday I stocked up on more balls for Earl.

Today, a friend visited and while the dogs eagerly greeted her, Earl and Molly began vying for one of the new balls.  In the midst of their tug of war, Molly snatched to get a better grip of the ball and caught Earl's cheek. They never quit playing, spewing slobber and blood in the living room, until they were winded and I was able to get the ball away from them.

Earl's scheduled to get stitches tonight.

Earl's ears, each missing a notch
(c) 2017 MJ Miller

This isn't Earl's first ball-playing-injury rodeo.  A couple of years ago, during the same horseplay involving ball and tug, Molly took the end of Earl's ear off. He already had a half-moon notch out of the other ear after having a growth (benign, as it turned out) removed. He's been neutered, is missing chunks out of each ear, and now has a torn lip.  We need to change his name to "Lucky" like the old parody of a missing dog poster that used to circulate.

The Culprit:  A Serial Offender
(c) 2017 MJ Miller

It's been a rough month for vet bills here. At least, I reassured myself, tonight's visit would be covered - Russ carried emergency insurance for Earl, the only animal here that has such a benefit. When Russ got home, I briefed him before he came in that he could expect to see a bloody dog and a very contrite sister dog. "At least," I said, "We can test that dog insurance."

"No, we can't," he said. "I dropped it. My paycheck got too small."

So thank you, dear reader, for reading my blogs and buying my books.  Someone has to keep my vets in new cars and to subsidize their kids' college costs.

It's a good idea to have a veterinary handbook on hand. Here's the one I favor if you'd like to buy it here:  Recommended Dog Veterinary Reference 

Molly, looking unsinkable
(c) 2017 MJ Miller

Injuries - and ultimately loss - are part of the territory when you give your hearts to animals. As an old horse trainer once consoled me, "You're either burying the ones you love or they're burying you." Living the life we're meant to live - and for dogs, that means living the life they're bred to live and instinctively pursue - involves risk-taking. Risks often result in injury and injury often results in loss. In the wonderful, wild, imperfect world we occupy, such things are a byproduct of life. As for Earl, he never so much as yipped when he was injured. Dogs are so much more pragmatic than we are.


(c) 2017 MJ Miller * All rights reserved * No part of this content may be reproduced without permission * Thank you for linking, liking, sharing, tweeting, and otherwise helping grow my readership * Most of all, thank you for stopping by and sharing our enthusiasm for our dogs and all things dog!

Earl in Images

Our sweet and quiet boy, Earl, is often lost in the noise and fury that surrounds him (i.e., Molly, Mattie-Kate, and now Roody). Now seven years old, Earl continues to be my husband's "little boy" and steadfast companion.  Earl lives to chase the cows, play ball, ride in the truck, roll in stinky things, and have happy snarfling sessions at midnight. I can't imagine a better behaved dog than Earl - it's his nature to please.

Earl is a longer, leaner McNab than Molly. Of course, a bowling ball is longer and leaner than Molly - but as McNabs go, they are two different types entirely. Behaviorally, Earl is less rowdy, less nurturing, a bit more protective and watchful. He prefers to snuggle for a few minutes, or to sleep with his head on my feet, rather than to sleep in my arms as Molly does. On the cows, Earl likes to circle the group and keep them together, while Molly is the go-to dog for heading them. He's the dog who won't come in until all his humans are gathered safely, the one who waits behind to make sure the slower human on a hike is safe. 

How fortunate we are to be in the presence of these loving, kind, smart animals. 

Copyright (c) 2016 by Marcy J. Miller * All rights reserved * No part of this content, including photographs, may be reproduced without the express permission of the author * Links, however, may be freely shared * Thank you for linking, liking, loving, sharing, +1ing, emailing, and having coffee with me * Most of all, thanks for stopping by. Dog bless!

The Reunion: Roody and Mom

Just over two weeks ago, we brought Mom's little Dachshund, Roody, to live with us as Mom prepared to transition from independent living (interrupted by frequent hospital and rehabilitation center stays) to assisted care.  As has happened so many times in the past, she feared she'd never see her "little boy" again. Last week as I updated her on his activities here on the ranch, she became teary-eyed. "That's killing me, you know," she said as I described his joy when I brought his "comfort blanket" home to him.  I promised her I'd bring Roody to visit her often once she had relocated to the nearby facility; she pursed her lips and said, "No, I don't want to see him."

Yesterday, I moved Mom to her new room at the care home we'd chosen. It was a long and oft-somber day: I picked her up at the nursing facility in the morning and took her to lunch with a dear friend before we escorted her to the new place. Mom has lived in the same house for 50 years. This was a daunting and emotional move.

Today, we surprised her with a visit from Roody. Mom melted at the sight of him. Fortunately, the little rogue wagged and greeted her happily. More on that side-note later.

It has been three weeks or more since Mom last saw her little pup. He's lost several pounds and has actually been able to run again. Meanwhile, Mom has regained some of her strength. She's able to walk short distances with the aid of her walker, but will - at 88 years of age and with a host of medical conditions including advanced Parkinson's - never live independently again.

Upon seeing Roody today, Mom couldn't quit patting him and cradling his face in her shaky hands. He settled promptly between her feet - his favorite place of all - and grinned, tongue dangling. We left them outside on the patio together as we finished moving Mom's furniture into place.

Now, the naughty Roody story from another hospital visit, a few years ago: Mom had been in a skilled nursing facility for several weeks. I received permission to bring Roody in to see her. I was excited as my husband and I drove him to the facility. I pictured him wagging that whole-body wag he has, whimpering with excitement, an epic greeting as dogs give their returning veteran dog-fathers on viral videos. We walked in, carrying the little slug, only to have him turn his head away and avoid even looking at Mom!  He was bewildered by the nursing home smells and sounds, the whoosh of the oxygen machine, the sight of her with tubes and other accoutrements of modern medicine. Mom was devastated. Our joyful hopes were crushed.

On the way home, that day, husband-type-person kept glancing over at Roody as he drove. "How do you sleep at night!" he said, not a question but an accusation. "You're going to hell," he taunted. The entire drive, he gave Roody the business.  Roody, for his part, grinned in delight at being on a road trip, undaunted by any such lecture.

Our pleasure at seeing Roody and Mom together again today was enhanced by the great relief we shared when Roody acknowledged her and chose to sit there, a pudgy reddish hound between her shoes.

Never discount the difference a little furbody can make in an elderly person's life. Dogs - with their too-short lives - look for reasons to be happy. Their big personalities take us along when they wag and grin with mindful joy.

Copyright (c) 2016 MJ Miller * All rights reserved * No part of this content, including photographs, may be reproduced without the express permission of the author * Links, however, may be freely shared! * Thank you for linking, liking, emailing, sharing, tweeting, passenger-pigeoning, and otherwise helping grow my audience * Most of all, thank you for visiting.

Roody's Boot-Camp Weight-Loss Update

Mom's Dachshund, little Roody, joined us just five days ago, but we immediately put him to work doing ranch chores - and we cut off the treat pipeline. He weighted in at 21.6 pounds on arrival. Today - to my delight - Roody weighed in at 19.4 lbs, an amazing 2.2 pound loss. As you can see from the photo below, he has already gained a semblance of a waistline.

Roody, five days after coming to fat camp

Roody is getting to be quite the old hand here already. He's perfectly comfortable with our gentler horses. Holly, the palomino mare below, is now 29 years old. Roody doesn't hesitate to go in with the younger, rowdier horses - but I discourage him and soon he, like the other dogs, will know which ones he can trust.

Roody and Hollywood Royal Lady

One of the greatest joys of being a ranch dog is rolling in muck and manure and dead things in the desert. After this week's rain, there's still some mud to be found and maximized. Roody has found his own technique of rolling, than scooting with his front legs collapsed beneath him like a folding table.

The other dogs enjoy having a new buddy.  Molly the McNab and Mattie-Kate the Papillon are happy to show him the ropes.

Roody's still too squatty-bodied to make it into the tack and feed room. Below, muddy-snouted Roody whines from the tack room step.

This morning's chores involved a lot of running back and forth to keep up. None of the property is level, but the little guy has a lot of heart and moved those short legs as fast as he could coming up the slopes from the barn. Yes, there's a Dachshund in that photo.  Little did he know he was running to the shed so he could have a bath before going in.

Lest you think that with all this exercise and sudden weight loss that we're starving little Roo-Roo, worry not. He still has free access to his healthy kibbles (we feed Nutro Ultra).  He's self-limiting his intake of them, as working dogs generally do. To his delight we've added Merrick Wilderness Blend canned food to his evening meal (one tablespoon). Roody also has constant access to hard, healthy chews - real beef bones, bully sticks and the occasional cod twist. What's missing are constant treats and sharing from the table. Mom loved surprising him with morsels - and those morsels added up. Now, his paw prints around the ranch are adding up. Today's morning feeding put a mile on his paw-dometer. We are constantly active throughout the day and now that the weather is tolerable, we take the dogs with us on each foray outdoors. With this program Roody will neither feel hungry nor will he overeat. 

If you're looking for a good, all-around kibble for your dogs, this one has what I look for: multiple protein sources to include salmon, fruit and vegetables, and free of corn syrup and other nasties: Nutro Ultra dry dog food (affiliate link). I've fed it for many, many years (supplemented by wet food and homemade food) and have been thoroughly happy with the results.

Another great side-effect of Roody's new routine is he is mentally stimulated. Before Mom's Parkinsons had advanced to her current level of disability, she walked Roody throughout her neighborhood. He had the chance to play with her friends' dogs, to socialize with human friends, and to see new sights. In recent months Mom has been unable to walk beyond her property. Now, Roody is challenged and engaged once again. He has quit his incessant barking. He misses Mom, still running out to my car to look for her - but we have given him as much diversion as possible, and with a little luck he will be able to visit her when she has been moved from the nursing facility to a nearby adult care home.

As for Mom, one of her first questions when we talk is, "How's my little boy?" I take the pictures of him to show her when I visit, and tell her about his day's adventures. She said last night she's happy for him. The strength and importance of the bond between an elderly person and their pet can't be overstated. Putting Mom at ease about the well-being of her little companion is critical to her own well-being as she transitions from independent living to a dependence on others.

Copyright (c) 2016 Marcy J. Miller * All rights reserved * No part of this content may be reproduced without the express permission of the author * However, links may be freely shared * Thank you for liking, linking, sharing, emailing, tweeting, +1ing, and otherwise helping grow my audience * Most of all, thank you for reading!

Roody Joins the Ranch

One of the many joys of having McNab dogs is their nurturing, protective nature. Whether they're licking the face of a newborn calf or crawling onto their owner with concern because of a cough or sneeze, they're attuned to the well-being of their family members.  Today I celebrate that tendency as once again our McNabs help us through a challenging time.

Yankee Doodle Roody

Recently my mother - 88 years old and challenged by ill health and disability - made the difficult decision to no longer live independently. I opted to bring her geriatric, corpulent - nay, obese - Dachshund, Roody, to live with us on the ranch. After my father's death, we bought Roody to keep Mom company. I ordered him from a rancher friend in Oklahoma, a horse-hauler, who brought tiny, wiggly six-week old Roody all the way to Arizona in the cab of his semi. Despite having been born on a ranch and of working ranch Dachshunds, Roody has never been around livestock since. To my knowledge, he has never seen a cat up close.  At Mom's house, squirrels sent him into a frenzy of yappage.

Despite my trepidations, Roody has fit in beautifully. Now on his third day of ranch life, he has already gotten into the routine of doing chores such as feeding, cleaning stalls, and collecting eggs. Now, Roody has been a bit spoiled throughout his life, deeply loved and rarely told "no." He is a bit .... barky. Incessantly barky, really. Barky when he wants a treat, or attention, or just to be heard. I dreaded Roody's bark: our dogs are exuberant and rowdy as they prepare to do chores or greet visitors, but quiet otherwise. I was concerned Roody would bring his barky nature to our home and disrupt the quietude I cherish. When I texted my brother that I was bringing Roody home with me, I wrote, "I'll keep Roody," and he replied, "You're a saint for taking the hound." Yesterday, I updated him:  "I'm on my way home with Roody. Pray for me." He wrote back, "I love you." Roody has something of a reputation.

Roody returns from feeding the cows

To my surprise, Roody has let out nary the random bark since his arrival. He has not barked for treats. He has not barked at the cats. He has not barked in play. He did not bark at horses or cows. He barked briefly at the ducks, but otherwise he has been a quiet, happy, busy dog.

Molly invites Roody to romp

Best of all, the McNabs Molly and Earl have welcomed him generously. Our Papillon-in-chief, Mattie-Kate, already knew Roody well from visiting Mom, as did Earl. Molly, though, immediately greeted him gently when they met. She checked on him constantly during his first couple of times doing the morning chores - making sure she'd run back and touch his nose as he struggled to keep up, short legs churning, lumpy long body bouncing. As she grew more confident in him, she tried to entice him in a game this morning but Roody was too breathless to exert any further.

Earl and Roody

As for Earl, he is a quieter sort. During morning coffee on the porch he lay beside Roody in silent communion. He has accepted Roody pragmatically, with no fanfare. He is a good boy.

Roody rolling in Stinky Things

Roody weighed in at a whopping 2l.6 pounds on his arrival two nights ago. I expect him to slim down quickly thanks to the chore routine. Just feeding hay - not counting stall-cleaning, grain feeding, or other care - is over half a mile of walking, and Roody stays right with the pack as we made the rounds. For the first time in his life, Roody learned the joy of Rolling in Stinky Things. (One of Earl's favorite activities, that: in fact, one of Earl's many terms of endearment is "Poo-hound.")

Tuckered out Roody

He came in exhausted but happy, tongue dragging almost as low as his belly, and I gave him a healthy, low-calorie dried cod stick to gnaw on. Although he still runs to my car each time we go out, looking for Mom, he should soon blossom as he adapts to his new life and healthy routine.

Molly, happy to have another creature to tend

As for the McNabs, they're thrilled to have someone new to watch over and tend.












If you're looking for cod twists for your own weight-challenged pup, here's a link (affiliate):
 Healthy Cod Twists


Copyright (c) 2016 by MJ Miller * All rights reserved * No part of this content, including photographs, may be reproduced without permission of the author * However, links may be freely shared * Thank you for visiting, linking, tweeting, emailing, sharing, liking, loving, reading, and returning your shopping carts to the safety bay.