A rambling post about dogs and foxes
My husband and I got a quarantine dog in May along with the rest of the country. He was a year and a half border collie mix (?) when he arrived—now two years old. My husband wanted the dog, I didn’t, but I was willing to give it a try. My husband wanted a husky, but we were concerned that it might stalk and hunt our cat due to a natural prey drive. I wanted a border collie because I knew how smart and trainable they are. We are frisbee players, and if were going to get a dog, I wanted a dog who would chase frisbees with us. Everyone I spoke to and the internet emphasized that border collies are difficult pets and probably not good dogs for first-time dog owners like us, but I am stubborn. The rescue organization texted on a Monday to say to the dog would arrive Saturday and were we ready. We weren’t, but we said ok. The dog arrived in a van from North Carolina Saturday night.
They called him Simon at the shelter, but we called him Fry. Fry had been picked up off the street, so we didn’t learn anything about his background. He seemed pretty healthy, and was neutered by the rescue organization just before come to live with us. In the first days, we were interested to learn that he did not know how to sit on command. This seemed to foretell a general lack of obedience and socialization with humans. On the upside, he was house broken and didn’t have any accidents in the house in the early days. He wasn’t a barker, was good with people, if aloof, and didn’t seem fearful or aggressive.
Fry was quiet for the first week. He was exhausted and unsure of the new setting. After that, he was pure frustration for me. The dog nipped me constantly. I was covered with bruises from his exuberant and frightening outdoor attacks/play/herding attempts. He knocked me over on walks more than once in his eagerness to reach another dog or rabbit. He snapped at me a few times over a bone. Fry didn’t know how to lie down quietly so we could watch TV or do anything else. He would mouth us and pace restlessly. He had no interest in fetching or toys, so it was difficult to get his energy out. He would pick up the rubber frisbee, but only to toss it and worry it like prey.
After following the recommended process for introducing cat and dog, we let them meet. Fry barked madly at the cat, lunged at him from the leash, and chased him on the few occasions when our vigilance slipped and he had unfettered access. Once or twice he was able to corner the cat before we reached them (no injuries to the cat). The dog was morbidly fascinated with the cat. Whatever his breed, his prey drive is definitely there.
I have always been a cat person, and disliked dog ownership just as much as I expected I would. I was shackled to this smelly ball of chaos who regularly hurt me, duty bound to provide exercise and stimulation. One night in the summer he peed a great pool of urine onto his bed in the kitchen. I rushed him outside to pee in an appropriate place. It was about 10pm , and we stood on the dark front lawn. By the fence, the big arborvitae hedge rustled loudly. The noise was so loud and careless that I half expected a human to emerge. Out from the bushes waddled three skunks in procession. They walked a circuit around the yard in a perfect line before disappearing in another clump of bushes. Another time, in the middle of Fry’s nighttime diarrhea phase, we saw two Foxes run after each other through the neighborhood at 2am.
Since then I have been seeing foxes often. Once on road down the block when driving home. Fry and I heard them, barking like geese, on another evening. When we walked the powerline right-of-way in the daytime, we saw a single fox, who took cover at our approach.
It has been six months, and things are much better. Fry is currently napping on his bed by me, and has been all morning. He still does zoomy attacks outside sometimes, but will stop in response to a “settle down.” He now sits, downs, shakes, stays (briefly), and walks on a leash in a reasonable manner. He is learning to fetch a ball, and I am hopeful that he will learn frisbee one day. We have Fry’s potty schedule and diet mostly figured out now, so not a lot of accidents in the house for now, though he did vomit up his breakfast in the kitchen this morning. We snuggle on the bed sometimes, and definitely enjoy our walks in the woods together. There is still tension with the cat, though it has lessened. I went away last week, and found myself often thinking, “I wish Fry were here.”
Overall, the dog has been difficult but probably worth it. I still miss the freedom of not having a dog, but I appreciate that he gets me out on a rainy morning into the woods when otherwise I would have stayed hunkered inside. We are starting dog agility, and I think we will both have a lot of fun with that. With the the dog come many gifts.
Because this is my ecology blog, I feel that I should connect this to ramble to science. How I feel about the dog is akin to how I feel about fieldwork. Fieldwork is so difficult, both physically and mentally. There are many challenges, and a lot of days I would rather sit in front of my computer than do field work. Fieldwork is worth it too. I am always so glad I did it, and glad I had fieldwork to pry me out of my paperwork cocoon. In addition to the sweat and aches of fieldwork, there are gray cattbirds watching my progress, green frog tadpoles swimming around my feet, praying mantises posing, and a yellow warbler checking me out on its southern migration.
Things that are worth doing are often not easy. There are many gifts.
