Doggy Paddling around Munyon Island

I took my dog out for a morning on the Intracoastal Waterway today. The weather was perfect; warm and breezy. Duchess and I both had a blast.

We started out in a sheltered lagoon area near John D. MacArthur State Park shortly after the park opened at 8 AM. The tide was high, and fish were continually launching themselves up out of the water; some of them sustained impressive air time. It was really encouraging to observe a thriving fish population in an era of over-harvesting. 

I passed under a bridge and out into the edge of the Intracoastal Waterway and started checking out the area's birds. I spotted several flocks of Brown Pelicans, a nesting pair of Ospreys, myriad wading birds, and petite Least Terns were in abundance. 

I also caught a glimpse of a sea turtle coming up for air. Oh! As of this write-up, there has been one documented sea turtle nest this season on MacArthur beach -- belonging to a lovely leatherback sea turtle. The park ranger said it's been a slow season so far.

We made landfall on a little spit of land, and I let Duchess out to romp around. She was positively giddy about being able to run around on her own private beach, so she started racing around at top speed. It makes my heart sing to see her feeling so obviously happy and liberated, because she is prone to anxiety in new situations. I am really glad that she enjoyed her kayaking trip.

 After our stop on the little island, we ventured forth into the nearby mangrove alleys. The tide was starting to head out, so the current was swift and the water was receding in the area; it made for some new sights and smells for Duchess to take in.

 Once we made it out of the mangroves, I headed toward the docks at nearby Munyon Island. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the motion of something brown-grey and rather large surfacing and descending. At first I thought it was a large sea turtle's back, but upon closer inspection, I saw that it was a manatee's head! The water was too brackish to get a decent photo of it, but it was really cool to see one in the Intracoastal (I hugged Duchess and laughed in my excitement).

I aimed back toward my launching area, and began the leisurely paddle back to "camp." By that time, Duchess was completely relaxed, and took a short siesta while I moseyed along. It was such a wonderful voyage for the both of us, and I think Duchess gained a lot of confidence today, which I believe to be the most important part of the whole journey. I'm deeply pleased with her, and I kept letting her know that she was a good girl and that I was proud of her (phrases she knows well!) throughout the day.

I'm truly looking forward to our next paddling adventure together.

Duchess: a pound puppy's tale

Now that you've seen her a few times, I figured I would tell you a bit about Duchess's background and how I came to find her.

I spent several weeks driving down to the Miami-Dade Animal Shelter, trying to find a dog that was a good match for my living situation (there were two other dogs in the house to think about, as well as a few other factors). I met so many cool dogs - I remember one MASSIVE Cane Corso with a head as big as my torso (rhyme!). 

I put my name on waiting lists for several dogs that seemed like good matches, but I never got called. Sometimes I would just sit and fuss over dogs that I knew I couldn't adopt due to my situation, and were unlikely to be adopted themselves. I petted and loved on them and I silently cried beside them. Dogs don't deserve what people do to them.

One day when I was at the shelter, I spotted a sweet-looking black dog that went by the name of Missy. I asked to see her, and a volunteer went to get a leash to bring her to the 'play room.' As I was waiting, I walked around to the hallway where they kept the smaller dogs in tiny cages. Among the chihuahuas and dachshunds I found her: too big for her cage and curled up in a frightened ball, facing away from anyone who walked by. I stooped down to look at her, and the volunteer came back to tell me that "Missy" had already been adopted, and the new owners were coming by today.

By that time I had already forgotten about that dog. I asked to see the scared little girl in the too-small cage. The information on her paperwork stated that she was five days overdue -- if you get my meaning. In a high-kill shelter, that's a lifetime. I felt a sudden sense of urgency as I impatiently waiting for the volunteer to get a leash.

The dog wouldn't walk on a leash, and so she had to be carried to the play room. The volunteer set her down, and I sat in the middle of the room and waited.

The dog paced the perimeter of the room, wary and distrusting. She sniffed this and that and ignored me altogether. I called to her a few times, snapped my fingers, made kissy sounds. No response. All of my knowledge, all the tips and tricks I read about how to choose a rescue dog suggested that this one was not for me. For some reason, I chose to sit and wait.

She continued her pacing around the room and then circled inward. She walked right up to me and gave my face a brief lick. Relief washed over me like a wave and I burst into happy tears and I told the volunteer that I would take the dog today. 

I paid my fees and carried her to my car (she wouldn't walk on a leash, remember?). She rode all the way home with her face wedged between my back and my driver's seat. I had no idea what I had just gotten myself into.

She didn't always look so cute and cuddly; when I first got her, she was underweight, she had worms, her right eye was infected and she had some mange on her face and back. Here's one of the first photos I ever took of her:

In the first two weeks I had her, I focused on getting her back to health and making her comfortable in the house with my other two dogs. Here's a photo of her a week later:

Her eye infection was just about healed, and her mange was almost gone. She was very shy. She kept digging under the fence in order to escape. she wouldn't make eye contact with me and she never wagged her tail. I was incredibly patient with her; she'd probably never been inside a house before, so every experience she was having was most likely brand new, and very scary for a 5-month-old dog.

I have a fair bit of experience with dogs, but training her was less like training and more like taming a feral animal. 

After a few months of mishaps and runaways, I finally snapped. She had run away -- again. I got into my car and followed her usual escape route through the neighborhood. I spotted her running through everyone's backyards, and then into an empty lot. I made a split-second decision to drive right into the empty lot with my little 4x4 hatchback, swung the car around, opened the door (I was way too mad to take the time to roll down the window), and screamed at the top of my lungs: "GO HOME!"

I'll be damned if she didn't do exactly that; she spun around and ran the hell home. By the time I had pulled back into the driveway, she was sitting at the front door of the house just like this:

It would have been funny at the time if I wasn't so over it. I had never yelled at her before; it made me feel terrible. I couldn't look at her the rest of the day. But I will tell you this: she never ran away again. Ha!

Things with Duchess got a lot easier after that. I was firmer with my discipline of her -- something that is important with strong-willed breeds, like shiba inu and shepherd mixes. There cannot be any question as to who is the alpha in that relationship. I came to the understanding that it was my lacking disciplinary skills, and not the dog, that was the issue. Once I figured that out, everything fell into place.

Nowadays, I can call her out of a full-on gallop with a word or a clap of my hands. She understands and obeys complicated commands and has a firm grasp of the nuances of what I ask of her. She knows the exact difference in the meaning of "Stay with me" and "Wait for me" when we're hiking on the trail. She's still strong-willed, and sometimes we disagree on things, and sometimes she makes a fuss and plants her feet when it's time to go to bed, but there is absolutely no doubt in my mind that she is the smartest dog and the best dog I have ever -- and will ever -- own.

Wandering the trails at Jonathan Dickinson State Park

I had wanted to go on a hike at Jonathan Dickinson State Park for a long time. It just never seemed to be the right time to do it; I once started a hike there with my younger sister, but the weather was hot and unforgiving out there in the open pine flatwood habitat, so we bailed.

One chilly December morning, a few years back, I finally got my chance to get out there and do a proper hike with the dog. I'm glad I did: there wasn't a cloud in the sky, and the temperatures never rose above 55 degrees. The ranger at the main station -- a native Floridian -- even laughed and wondered why I wanted to go out there when it was "so cold." I smiled and shrugged; it's generally no use trying to explain hiking to non-hikers, as some of you probably know all too well.

We started out by following the park's equestrian trails, grabbing a few connecting trails in order to reach the section of Florida Trail that wound through the park. Hiking through the pine flatwood was delightful this time around, and Duchess enjoyed the new sights and smells.

At one point, she became hyper-alert; this is not something she does during hikes, so I knew that there was something out there in the palmettos. Her hackles went up and she became oddly defensive of me, standing between me and whatever "it" was that was causing her such offense. 

Then that oily-dirty-musky scent hit me like a truck and I realized we had wandered too close to a black bear. It was in that moment that I heard a sort of huffing growl, and I slowly backed away, pulling firmly on Duchess's leash and calmly calling her off the scent. I continued backing away for a few more yards, and then finally turned around and we continued our hike without incident. I never even saw the bear. But it was definitely aware of us.

We continued along the equestrian trails until we reached the Florida Trail. The photo you see of that bridge was Duchess's first ever trail bridge crossing! She handled the rickety bridge like a pro. I was proud of her that day; she obeyed me while in a stressful situation with the bear, and she tackled new problems, like the bridge, without hesitation. She's a good girl.

A morning on the Florida Trail

I went on a Sunday morning hike with my mother and my dog at a local wildlife management area. It wasn't too hot when we started out at 7:00 AM, but it was 83 degrees Fahrenheit by 11:30 AM, so it was a short and sweet hike; probably around 5 miles round-trip.

As you can see, spring was in full swing that morning. Plants were blooming, birds were singing, it was a nice hike, even though we were wading through knee-deep water half the time!

The next two photos provide excellent examples of what we were hiking through that morning. It was a great workout. The dog had a blast, galloping through the water and wading through the muck like a champ. She's a great trail dog. I think I'll make a post about her one day; her story is an interesting one.