we have a slight chance of ice pellets and snow tomorrow
February 11, 2012
February 9, 2012
field notes, ii-ix-xii
I took Aries out first this evening. He's pretty good on the leash most of the time, but sometimes he stops to sniff and it's hard to keep him moving. I brought some treats along, but he seemed to lose interest after the first few. I thought to myself, "What? Aries uninterested in food?" That was odd. He is food-possessive at home. But as I watched him ignore a treat I was waving under his nose, I realized that just being out and about is, for him, a greater reward.
I followed that train of thought back to Ondine. She never tires of treats, but I wondered whether they weren't really motivating or rewarding to her after all, or whether she's just greedy, and I wondered if I ought to try another kind of reward.
Lately Bren and Ondine have been playing with the squeaker from a gutted squeaky toy; Ondine gets excited and squirrely when Bren hides the squeaker in her hand and squeaks it quickly. When I took Ondine out this evening, I grabbed the squeaker. I kept it in my pocket for a while and then surprised her with it along the trail.
Sacre bleu, she likes that toy. A few times I kept it in my pocket and squeaked it only once, just to break her concentration from mild distractions, including a couple passing dogs. She responded to the single squeaks with a swivel-snap of her head, and then continued to check in often. We tried the rapid-squeak thing a few times when cars were passing, but the results were hit and miss. Seems like if I can get her to stop and play before she gets locked into her target, it's OK. We'll have to keep working on the timing.
Apart from all the observation and analysis and problem-solving, something light was dancing around in my head for a good part of the walk. Some of our stop-and-play sessions are as fun as fun gets down here on this planet, you know, kids and their dogs. Part of me is still nine years old and Ondine is a beautiful goofball.
I followed that train of thought back to Ondine. She never tires of treats, but I wondered whether they weren't really motivating or rewarding to her after all, or whether she's just greedy, and I wondered if I ought to try another kind of reward.
Lately Bren and Ondine have been playing with the squeaker from a gutted squeaky toy; Ondine gets excited and squirrely when Bren hides the squeaker in her hand and squeaks it quickly. When I took Ondine out this evening, I grabbed the squeaker. I kept it in my pocket for a while and then surprised her with it along the trail.
Sacre bleu, she likes that toy. A few times I kept it in my pocket and squeaked it only once, just to break her concentration from mild distractions, including a couple passing dogs. She responded to the single squeaks with a swivel-snap of her head, and then continued to check in often. We tried the rapid-squeak thing a few times when cars were passing, but the results were hit and miss. Seems like if I can get her to stop and play before she gets locked into her target, it's OK. We'll have to keep working on the timing.
Apart from all the observation and analysis and problem-solving, something light was dancing around in my head for a good part of the walk. Some of our stop-and-play sessions are as fun as fun gets down here on this planet, you know, kids and their dogs. Part of me is still nine years old and Ondine is a beautiful goofball.
snippets, 2-9-12
From The Atlantic: How your cat is making you crazy.
There is a theory of mind floating around out there (not necessarily in the linked article, but bear with me) that our brains are more like radio receivers than, uh, thought factories, and that they spend most of their time tuning signals and sifting and interpreting a huge variety of inputs not only from our six or seven senses, but from all the different communities of bacteria that make us who we are. My feeling is that toxo, the bacterial subject of the article, is just one among many bacteria that influence "our" behavior. I mean, c'mon, those little dudes ruled the planet for 3.5 billion years before "we" came along. (Experienced meditators know that the deep center is a really quiet place; many of the voices we think of as ourselves, if you let them come and go, start seeming like they're coming from somewhere else. That's the little dudes talking.)
There is a theory of mind floating around out there (not necessarily in the linked article, but bear with me) that our brains are more like radio receivers than, uh, thought factories, and that they spend most of their time tuning signals and sifting and interpreting a huge variety of inputs not only from our six or seven senses, but from all the different communities of bacteria that make us who we are. My feeling is that toxo, the bacterial subject of the article, is just one among many bacteria that influence "our" behavior. I mean, c'mon, those little dudes ruled the planet for 3.5 billion years before "we" came along. (Experienced meditators know that the deep center is a really quiet place; many of the voices we think of as ourselves, if you let them come and go, start seeming like they're coming from somewhere else. That's the little dudes talking.)
February 8, 2012
field notes, ii-viii-xii
Ondine was as bad as she's ever been this evening, though she did surprise me once or twice with good behaviors, such as sitting politely as we waited to cross Liberty Walk into the park.
A later start, 5:45, after she ate
Lots of evening traffic
A little cooler than usual
A slower pace
Yeah. Oh, we watched a jogger with a spitz mix pass, and Ondine looked at me like, "Why aren't we doing that?" And just before we turned into our driveway, I looked up to catch the last pink embers of the sunset and saw the evening's first star. I wished right away, "O please help this young lady learn to behave around cars."
A later start, 5:45, after she ate
Lots of evening traffic
A little cooler than usual
A slower pace
Yeah. Oh, we watched a jogger with a spitz mix pass, and Ondine looked at me like, "Why aren't we doing that?" And just before we turned into our driveway, I looked up to catch the last pink embers of the sunset and saw the evening's first star. I wished right away, "O please help this young lady learn to behave around cars."
February 7, 2012
February 6, 2012
February 4, 2012
February 3, 2012
February 1, 2012
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