Workout

When you are doing calisthenics at home and a dog licks your bare feet and you collapse in laughter, does that count as part of the workout?

Ticklish feet

I tried to teach Miro foot-handling the same way I taught The So-Perfect Darwin. From the time I brought him home at eight weeks, I'd run my hand all over him down to the feet. Randomly I'd pick up a foot and let go before he jerked his leg away. That was the routine: pick up foot, play with toes, release, treat.

He never got used to it.

When the first nail-trimming time came, I tried to introduce him to the Dremel. Most dogs prefer it to a clipper. Whoa! he went, squirming all over the way you would hearing fingernails screeching on a blackboard (what can we say now that we use whiteboards and markers?). So I switched to a clipper. Alanis insists on a Dremel and sometimes leans her whole weight, which is only 45 lbs, on me like a horse when I'm holding her foot.

the instruments of torture

When I trimmed around Miro's feet with a scissors and clipped the fur between his toes with a #40 blade on the electric clipper, his foot would jerk at a touch even when the rest of him was standing still and relaxed on the table. Slowly I realized there's more here than a dog not wanting his feet held. His feet are ticklish.

That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it.

The well-trimmed foot that grew out in about five minutes. Note the remodeled corner of the bed.

Does Miro need orthotics?

I wear orthotics in my running shoes because my feet pronate, meaning the ankles go in and the toes point a little out. The orthotics keep my feet moving at a balanced heel-to-toe line. It looks like Miro's left foot needs an orthotic, too.

Artistic types are always a little different, aren't they?

Miro's Coming Home Day

Although Miro's birthday is at the end of January, his coming home day is March 29. A year ago he flew home with me from Ohio. A day later and he would have been too big to fit in the under-seat carrier.  He spent a good part of the flight sleeping in my lap and I wasn't sure if I'd be able to stuff him back in the carrier. He needed that baby pudge for growing tall and long-legged.

I didn't succeed in getting his ears up but I'm the only one who cares about that anyway. Notice he still has big "knuckles" and his feet turn out a bit like a puppy's. He also sports a soul patch--that very stylish lighter patch of fur at his chin.

The biggest change is that he's growing out of the puppy "Oh, wow" stage and into the "getting a brain" stage. For an Airedale's first year everything is New! Wow! Lemme-at-it! and he doesn't filter any of the sensory messages coming in. Now I see the adult brain starting to work. During the puppy stage, you put the tools of communication in place and the dog learns "sit," "come," and so on; but it takes a different stage for the dog to understand that he's not just learning words in exchange for treats. He understands there's two-way communication going on. It's not strict obedience; it's a way of working together. You can grow into it so gradually that you don't notice it happening.

Or it's all a pose to lull me into thinking he's maturing while he's actually planning more havoc. Or both, since an Airedale never outgrows havoc.