Weight-Bearing Exercise
When the Gods bestow desert dwellers with a refreshingly brisk cool day, it’s ungrateful to do anything other than turn one’s back on the pile of unfolded laundry and head outdoors to enjoy the gift. Housework isn’t seasonal, being able to take a midday walk in the Sonoran desert is.
My little Australian Terrier loves cool weather as much as I do, so I snapped on her leash, stuffed my pockets with treats and poopie bags, and the two of us headed out to enjoy the scents and sounds of a desert spring day. I paused to inhale the spicy-sweetness of a big pot of hyacinths. The bulbs, planted last October, had burst into glorious purple bloom, seemingly overnight. Lizzie passed on the flowers, choosing to stuff her nose into the earthy muskiness of a freshly dug, rabbit’s burrow. I’m sure she could sense movement underground; baby bunnies will be emerging any day now. Early season bees droned around the blue-flowered rosemary bushes. Their steady buzzing almost drowned out the chatter of red and yellow finches, who were more occupied with pushing each other off the bird feeder than eating their breakfast. Greedy morning doves clustered underneath, snatching up every speck of thistle the sloppy finches dropped. Life was bursting out all around us.
The ground was still moist from a recent March downpour, and splashes of green broke-up the normally dull brown landscape. Here and there, brilliant Arizona bluebells peeked-up between the ‘weeds’. It was all too inviting to stay on the sidewalks, so Lizzie and I cut through the neighborhood’s desert drainages and open common areas, enjoying the feel of soft ground giving way under our feet. My terrier’s nose stayed pointed downward, hovering just above soil level. She was wild-eyed with the promise of lizards and squirrels hiding in every new scent. The early morning news had alerted us that rattlesnakes were emerging from hibernation, so I kept a careful eye out but refused to let snake paranoia ruin our outing.
Most of the time, Lizzie doesn’t know she’s a ratting terrier. She’s always been bit of a lady, at least she was until we passed a section of PVC pipe sticking out of a hillside. Lizzie peeked inside, tail wagging, popped her nose back out, and started digging like mad around the pipe. She's not a digger. Her tidy little muzzle was coated in sand, her nose was muddy, and her eyes were brighter than I’ve ever seen them. She tackled the pipe from above and then tried to duck under it to see if she could get at whatever she imagined was hiding inside. Who knows what she could smell or hear beyond the range of our limited human senses? I, being a safety-conscious Mom, stooped down to have a cautious look myself. I tossed a rock a few feet in just to make sure there wasn’t a small but pissed off snake hiding inside. All clear. Lizzie seemed thrilled that I was getting into the spirit of the game and, with her tail vibrating in excitement, she shoved her head into the ‘den’ as far as it would go. She popped back out and, with full and deliberate concentration, wrapped her jaw around the top of the PVC and tried to lift it out of the ground. That was it for me. My dog had crossed the line from playful pup to neighborhood vandal. Time to get her the hell out of there.
Ever seen those pictures of mules with their butts solidly parked, refusing to move? You've got the idea. I coerced her with treats and tried to edge her towards home. Lizzie is not a puller, but she dragged me back to her “prey”, twice. On my third "Let's go walkies.", I got her onto the sidewalk and half way down the first block. She lay down in every bit of shade we passed through and refused to budge. I’m not sure if she was actually overheated from all the activity or just stating her position on our leaving the site of her “hunt”. By this time I was thirsty and losing my sense of humor. Handling dogs is not that different from handling toddlers. I had no choice but to pick her up and move along. Well, my little terrier girl weighs about twenty pounds and the way home was all uphill. Carrying her stubborn little self wasn’t my idea of weight-bearing exercise but, who knows, I might be on to something. It's cheaper than a gym membership and I get to be outdoors. Even I have to wonder, though, just who is on the business end of this little terrier's leash?
My little Australian Terrier loves cool weather as much as I do, so I snapped on her leash, stuffed my pockets with treats and poopie bags, and the two of us headed out to enjoy the scents and sounds of a desert spring day. I paused to inhale the spicy-sweetness of a big pot of hyacinths. The bulbs, planted last October, had burst into glorious purple bloom, seemingly overnight. Lizzie passed on the flowers, choosing to stuff her nose into the earthy muskiness of a freshly dug, rabbit’s burrow. I’m sure she could sense movement underground; baby bunnies will be emerging any day now. Early season bees droned around the blue-flowered rosemary bushes. Their steady buzzing almost drowned out the chatter of red and yellow finches, who were more occupied with pushing each other off the bird feeder than eating their breakfast. Greedy morning doves clustered underneath, snatching up every speck of thistle the sloppy finches dropped. Life was bursting out all around us.
The ground was still moist from a recent March downpour, and splashes of green broke-up the normally dull brown landscape. Here and there, brilliant Arizona bluebells peeked-up between the ‘weeds’. It was all too inviting to stay on the sidewalks, so Lizzie and I cut through the neighborhood’s desert drainages and open common areas, enjoying the feel of soft ground giving way under our feet. My terrier’s nose stayed pointed downward, hovering just above soil level. She was wild-eyed with the promise of lizards and squirrels hiding in every new scent. The early morning news had alerted us that rattlesnakes were emerging from hibernation, so I kept a careful eye out but refused to let snake paranoia ruin our outing.
Most of the time, Lizzie doesn’t know she’s a ratting terrier. She’s always been bit of a lady, at least she was until we passed a section of PVC pipe sticking out of a hillside. Lizzie peeked inside, tail wagging, popped her nose back out, and started digging like mad around the pipe. She's not a digger. Her tidy little muzzle was coated in sand, her nose was muddy, and her eyes were brighter than I’ve ever seen them. She tackled the pipe from above and then tried to duck under it to see if she could get at whatever she imagined was hiding inside. Who knows what she could smell or hear beyond the range of our limited human senses? I, being a safety-conscious Mom, stooped down to have a cautious look myself. I tossed a rock a few feet in just to make sure there wasn’t a small but pissed off snake hiding inside. All clear. Lizzie seemed thrilled that I was getting into the spirit of the game and, with her tail vibrating in excitement, she shoved her head into the ‘den’ as far as it would go. She popped back out and, with full and deliberate concentration, wrapped her jaw around the top of the PVC and tried to lift it out of the ground. That was it for me. My dog had crossed the line from playful pup to neighborhood vandal. Time to get her the hell out of there.
Ever seen those pictures of mules with their butts solidly parked, refusing to move? You've got the idea. I coerced her with treats and tried to edge her towards home. Lizzie is not a puller, but she dragged me back to her “prey”, twice. On my third "Let's go walkies.", I got her onto the sidewalk and half way down the first block. She lay down in every bit of shade we passed through and refused to budge. I’m not sure if she was actually overheated from all the activity or just stating her position on our leaving the site of her “hunt”. By this time I was thirsty and losing my sense of humor. Handling dogs is not that different from handling toddlers. I had no choice but to pick her up and move along. Well, my little terrier girl weighs about twenty pounds and the way home was all uphill. Carrying her stubborn little self wasn’t my idea of weight-bearing exercise but, who knows, I might be on to something. It's cheaper than a gym membership and I get to be outdoors. Even I have to wonder, though, just who is on the business end of this little terrier's leash?