Happy Birthday to Me!

On November 26, my second birthday, Mark and Ali brought me the most awesome birthday present: a new chew-toy, I mean, a new kitten!

When Waffle the cat first arrived, I was afraid of him. I mean, as you can see from the photos above, he is very scary and ferocious. After about 24 hours, however, he established himself as very friendly, and now Scout and I have welcomed him with open paws.

Waffle and I love playing and wrestling. When we are alone in the house, we nap so we have plenty of energy for romping when people are around. Scout continues to primarliy frequent the basement and the bathroom, but he told me that he really likes the new kitten too.

So happy birthday to me and welcome to Waffle our new kitty!

Orange

It's hunting season in Richmond, and you know what that means. Yep, it's the orange vest these days for me whenever I go out. Which isn't that bad, I suppose. On the one hand, whenever it's time to go out (ie when I start getting over-excited in the house), I have to wait while my owners put the vest on me. On the other side, I can run through the thickest burrs in the woods and only get them on my head and tail instead of all over my body. See the vest not only makes me visible; it also offers effective burr-pro.

Still, I'll look forward to running through the fields of Richmond free of the orange vest constriction. It's just better that way.

Excited!

I am excited! Saturday, I hiked up on the side of Mount Mansfield where there are -- no exaggeration -- like 6 or 7 inches of snow left over from last week's storm! Mark and Ali talked the whole time about backcountry skiing in that very spot. And as you know, I love skiing! I love playing in the snow, I love leading the way up, I love following all the tracks... The only thing I don't love is how on the way down, I'm not the fastest. (That, actually, bothers me a little, but enough of that now.) Ski season is almost here, so, let me tell you, I am charged up.

So charged up in fact, that I couldn't contain myself this morning. It was a little warmer -- 38 Fahrenheit, in fact -- and I was so excited that jumped full speed right into the Winooski River. And swam all the way across. On November Third. In my hunting vest (see photo, which came out dark, but it wasn't really that dark). Once I got to the other side, I didn't really know what to do. I mean, there I was on the other side. And that water was cold!

So I ran a few laps around the beach on the other side, and then jumped in and swam as fast as I could back to this side. Whew -- exhilerating! It's like in February when all those people jump into Lake Champlain through the ice as a fund-raiser. Which is all well and good, but I'm thinking that maybe my swimming days will be over until next summer.

Welcome Abigail!

Everybody give a warm welcome to my new human cousin:

Abigail Grace McKain was born on October 15, 2008!

Congrats Ryan and Michelle, and welcome Abigail!

PS Casey and Dakota, make sure you give her a big lick for me!

Thank You and Congrats Runners!

Two things:

1) Thank you Rebekah! You are a great buddy! I appreciate everything -- especially the dogfood!

2) Congratulations Hartford Marathon Runners! I hope you all had a great race!

O

Oscar, Why do dogs like to stick their heads out the window when they ride in the car? -- Casey and Dakota

Dear Casey & Dakota,

It's simple, my friends. If they're not going to move over and let us hold the steering wheel, then we'll do the next best thing, which is putting our faces out and letting our ears flap in the wind. I'm serious. I don't want to just ride in the car; I want to drive.

Love it!

I apologize if I'm belaboring this point, but I love my life here in Richmond, Vermont! Yet again today, Mark brought me for a 6-miler. At mile 4.2, he let me off the leash to run in the fields. I love running in the fields. At 5.1, we came to the brook at the end of the road. I love swimming in the brook. Again, sorry for beating a dead horse, but life is good if you're a yellow puppy on a dirt road in Richmond.

Whoops... gotta go. I hear someone filling my food dish.

Best Weekend Ever!

Let me tell you about my weekend. My owners took the day off on Wednesday and we ran six miles. We spent the whole day together, except when they left in the afternoon, saying nothing except something about going to an "airport." They returned with two of the nicest people ever -- Rob and Amy French, on whose clothes I could clearly smell husky and Australian shepard.

On Thursday, we hiked Camel's Hump (see photo) on one of the all-time most beautiful days ever. Wow -- it was glorious up there! We met Chris (smelled like lab), Lisa (double Jack Russell terrier), and Howard (Brittany Spaniel). With Howard came Rufus, the 11-year-old Brittany which explains Howard's scent. Man, for an old-timer, that Rufus sure knew how to hike!

That night we returned home and had a bonfire. Party! I have never stayed up quite so late before. The only problem was that Ali wasn't in bed, but I still took my usual three-quarters of the bed. I don't need any more than that, even though there's only one person with me.

On Friday, two guys named Craig showed up to take Mark and me running. I have to admit that Mark seemed a bit scatter-brained that whole morning. Maybe it was the late-night, but there seemed to be more to it. He wandered around the house, muttering "I do, I do" under his breath. They left, and then the party really started. Ryan and Michelle dropped off my cousins Dakota and Casey. Then Christina showed up with Zeus. We romped and played for hours.

The next morning, Mark and Ali showed up looking happier than I have ever seen them. They usually seem pretty psyched about life, so this was extra special to see. They gathered up a bunch of stuff, and we headed up to the camp in North Hero for more partying! Lots of people hung around on the deck (and let me tell you, they dropped lots of food off their plates!), I ran around with my girlfriend Fanny, and we all had a grand old time. People began to leave, until finally we were left with another late-night card-playing party with basically the same late-night crew from the bonfire a few nights prior. Danielle, Steve, Lisa, Johnny, the Frenches, Mark, and Ali. I've never heard more wisecracks, jokes, one-liners, and laughter in my life.

As if this isn't enough, Mark and Ali took me on a trip the next day. Their "honeymoon," they called it. The Hilltop Inn in Sugar Hill, New Hampshire allows pets, and boy are they set up for animals like me. Their golden retriever acts territorial about the place, but his bark (growls, actually) is worse than his bite. I had the run of the indoors, plus their fenced yard. They also had 25 acres behind the place for owners and dogs to run and hike. Mark watched the New England Patriots defeat the New York Jets without Tom Brady while Ali and I napped (and boy did I need it!) At one point, I opened one eye, and -- although I'm sure he'll deny it -- I am sure I saw Mark napping too. The innkeepers Meri and Mike dog-sat for me for a couple of hours while Mark and Ali went out for dinner. They are so nice! They are fully stocked with Milk Bones, but if you play your cards right, they also have filet mignon scraps in their refrigerator. What a night!

The next day, we hiked Mt Moosilauke on a drizzly and windy day -- 8 miles round trip. I covered at least 24 miles total. Now, three days later, I am fully recovered. I am ready for another weekend just like the last!

The Tree

Photo by Ruth Penfield
For those looking for the Aiken/McKain wedding site, it is pictured here. The happy occasion will take place under this tree, which I have inspected, sniffed, and marked.

In other information, ties are not required, and the boat leaves the dock at 5pm sharp. You want to be on it.

Can't wait to see everybody! -- Oscar

Dear Oscar, Why, oh why, did you get sprayed by that skunk? -- Mark

Well, folks, it happened. My owner's worst fears came to fruition:

It was 8:47 Friday morning; I was lying on my owners' bed. When suddenly I knew something was not right. I put all of my hairs straight up and ran into the office. Mark was like, "What's wrong with you?"

He followed me downstairs, where we saw -- in the middle of our FENCED YARD -- a small black and white creature. With Mark screaming "Oscar, no!", I knocked open the back door, and pranced over to it. "What's up?" I said in greeting. I gave it a good sniffing. I didn't smell much initially. I mean, it didn't smell like it had taken any showers lately or anything, but it wasn't terrible.

It wasn't mean. It started to walk away, and, of course, I followed. It looked like it might be a fun friend. It walked as far as the fence and realized it couldn't get out. It raised its tail and with Mark's footsteps in my ears, all of a sudden I was blinded. I felt Mark's hands on my collar pulling me away, and then I smelled the worst smell I've ever smelt. Putrid! And the next thing I knew, we were on the other side of the house, with Mark scrubbing me.

Most of it, thankfully, came off with that initial wash. But, I have to say, Mark has been beside himself all day. He has 20 candles burning in the house -- the most effective being a big one labeled "Sugar Cookies" in green and red. He keeps scrubbing me with any number of gross cleaners -- shampoo, vinegar, etc. We've been to the river twice, and he hasn't let me in the house. He keeps muttering under his breath like a crazy person. "What was it doing in the yard? In the yard!"

Just between us, I'm worried about him.

Oh well. It's a lesson learned. Mark blocked a hole from under the porch into the backyard. He tore out some tall weeds along the fence. I'd say things seem mostly impenetrable. Still, I'm curious about those little critters. I'd kind of like to find another; I have some questions I'd like to ask. In the meantime, I'm looking forward to being allowed back inside so I can rub my head in my owners' pillows.

Hello Oscar, First of all CONGRATULATIONS ! Rumor has it you have successfully coached...

... a team of 6 in the Vermont 100 on 100 race. What were your impressions of the race and what has been your secret of coaching a 'dream team'? From an aspiring coach.


Dear Coach,

Thanks for the heart-felt congratulations. However, I can neither confirm nor deny that I was actually present at the event itself. I will say that I have -- at one time or another -- run with every member of the team in question. And they are ALL great runners; their outstanding finish comes as no surprise to me. Given the easy-going and fun-loving nature of each team member, it also comes as no surprise that they had such a great time at the race.

As for my secrets to coaching a quote-unquote dream team, I take my coaching philosophies from two coaches: Herb Brooks, coach of the 1980 US Olympic hockey team, and Jan Leja, coach of Vermont's Team in Training and Burlington's Run With Jan group. Brooks ruled with an iron fist and his players hated him ("at least they didn't quibble amongst themselves," said Brooks). Leja is very reliable and always willing to help, and he gets the job done. If the writer of this question has any further questions about coaching, he should definitely contact Jan.

Big Day

The "Big Day" is almost here. That's right, folks! In just two weeks, my owners will be getting married.

But the "Big Day" I'm referring to is, of course, the day before the wedding when they're taking me hiking to the top of Vermont's 3rd highest peak -- Camel's Hump. You better believe I'm excited! The trail going up is less than 4 miles long, but I am definitely planning on covering at least 12 miles when you count going back and forth on the trail and my little off-trail forays. I'm going to be all over that peak!

Of course, Mark and Ali are excited for "their" big day. What the heck, why not? They are, if you don't mind a puppy being sappy for a moment, a perfect match -- and great puppy owners! Seriously, they have great communication -- so good that they never mess up and feed me extra (regardless of how pathetic I make myself look). Still, they feed me twice a day, and they give me lots of treats when I'm good. And I won't hold it against them ("them" in this case, meaning of course "mostly Alison") that they put that nasty tick medicine on me once a month, because they hike me at least once a day and often more than once. Lately, they haven't even been tying me up when we go out in the yard, because, now that I know the grass isn't really greener on the other side of the road, I more or less stay close!

So to sum up, the September 11 hike up the Hump is going to be one awesome day. And, just in case I don't get to put up any more posts between now and then (puppies like to assist and get our noses in all the wedding arrangements, and that can keep us very busy!), let me just say now that it's going to be a VERY special occasion!

Oscar, My family is moving to a new house next week. How do I make friends in my new neighborhood while letting them know I'm the top dog? -- Riley

photo: hanging with friends Willow, Maisy, and their owner

I hate to answer a question by asking another question, but here goes: Why do you have to let them know you're top dog?

Here's what I do, and I recommend it to you, too. If you're top dog, just be comfortable with your superior position to the world, and don't worry about asserting your status. Who needs all the growling and barking anyway? Generally, I just assume that everyone loves me and wants to play. If it turns out that they don't, it's their loss, right? I mean, hey, I can't help it that they're missing out on being jumped on and licked constantly! If they're non-receptive to me, they'll never know how many sloppy wet kisses they missed or how good it feels to have their back leg chewed by me!

As for friend-making technique, here's the program I use:
1) Wag tail and smile.
2) Prance right up in friendly way. Rub noses.
3) Sniff crotch-area.
4) Sneeze. (Usually, they will also sneeze now too.)
5) Jump on them and start playing.
6) Enjoy beginning of life-long friendship!

Note: this approach works with both dogs and people.

Good luck with the move, Riley!

Oscar, Why are dogs afraid of thunder? -- Casey & Dakota

Dear Casey and Dakota, I have noticed this too. You could be the meanest, baddest rottweiler or German Shepherd, but as soon as dark clouds start to roll in, the leaves start swishing, and the thunders starts to rumble in the distance, you're under the bed or trembling in the corner of the bathroom!

In my house, we have a front porch that, in my puppy days, was puppy-proofed (except for one old foam couch, and boy did that arm-rest taste good!), and that's where I stayed when my parents were out. One day they returned to the scene of what seemed to them like a severe thunder storm had come through: tree branches down, saturated lawn, leaves upside-down -- all the tell-tale signs. And let me tell you, they were right; that storm was biblical! Thunder, lightning, pouring rain... wild. And there I was when they came home, tongue out and wagging my tail as if nothing happened. Nope, thunder doesn't really bother me.

But, for some dogs it does, and this behavior can -- but doesn't always -- indicate some sort of traumatic experience. I have heard of one beagle -- the famous Hunter who lived to be 17 -- who became afraid of loud banging noises after his owner brought him along one time to sight in his 30.06. Hunter's owner had a friend, Mr. B, who also had a beagle named Becky. Same thing: she was gun shy. But her owner made her sit right there while he sighted his rifle, and she learned to deal. (She never liked big bangs, but she dealt with it.)

Many vets and pet experts recommend medication for the fear of loud banging noises like thunder. Come on, guys. Don't be a bunch of dog-dopers. Fear of thunder is not a big deal (unless your dog's anxiety causes destructive behavior). If your dog is wrecking stuff, work with him/her, by playing (at low volume) thunder CDs in your house to get him/her used to the sound. During a storm, give your pet some attention; be reassuring and even play fun games like fetch. Sometimes it calms them down and sometimes not. And sometimes a pet that seemingly is cured of the fear of thunder has a relapse.

All of this is normal behavior, but I want to assure everyone: unless you are on top of a mountain during a thunderstorm, there's really not much to be afraid of.

Record Distance!

Today during our weekly group run, I refused to leave my owners. Generally, in the heat of summer, when they do their long runs (usually 14 miles or more) for marathon preparation, they leave me at home. Today, they made arrangements to have Brenda take me back to the Camp at the 8.6 mile turn-around.

But I said "No way!" Nothing against Brenda, but what do they think I'm going to do, sit at the house while they get all the fun? Generally, their policy is that they don't take me running more than 13 miles, and I doubt they will again. But, inspired by the Beijing Olympics, I ran today's 16-mile training run -- farther than they've ever let me run at one time -- quite easily, thank you very much! Then I went back to the Camp and ran and played with Fanny, the neighbor dog, for another hour.

What they don't understand is that when they take me hiking, I easily travel distances up to ten times their hiking distances. Running around is what I do!

Oscar, I just saw an ad for Grape Nuts. No grapes, no nuts... what gives? -- Solomon

You're right, Solomon. No grapes, no nuts. Solomon went on to say his mom, Rebekah, leaves him a "non-descript bowl of cat food, but in the event that she ever leaves me cereal, I want to be an informed consumer." Great attitude, Solomon -- especially for a cat. Anyway, here's the deal on Grape Nuts:

Grape Nuts cereal was developed in 1897 by C.W. Post, who used "grape sugar" (aka glucose) instead of the more common sweetener sucrose. Then, some people said the cereal had a "nutty" flavor; hence the name "Grape Nuts." As for the flavor, I disagree. In my opinion, they taste more like wood; therefore, I would eat them happily.

Good-bye to a friend

Andy 1997-2008

Best wishes to Brenda and George who lost a good friend yesterday. From Brenda's email:

"We brought him home and we buried him in the most beautiful spot in the deep woods behind our house. This is a spot where George, Andy, and I have spent a lot of time together. It is my favorite spot.... I don't know what else to say; we buried our best friend yesterday and we are going to miss him very much."

That's the truth: dogs and people are great friends. I am definitely thinking of Brenda and George, because losing a friend is no fun.

Oscar, It's raining cats and dogs out there. Where does that phrase come from? -- Pheryperbol

Raining cats and dogs... what an image! What do they think is going to happen, we're going to get swept up in the wind and come pouring down? Ridiculous. Those humans sure have some imagination.

The phrase does come up twice in literature. The playwright Richard Brome wrote this line in his 1653 comedy The City Wit or the Woman Wears the Breeches: "It shall raine... dogs and polecats." My main question about Brome's line is this: what the heck is a "polecat"?

In 1738, Jonathan Swift (of Gulliver fame) wrote a long essay with a long title: A Compleat Collection of Polite and Ingenious Conversation. "I know St. John will go," Swift writes, "though he was sure it would rain cats and dogs." A few comments about Swift's line: One, learn how to spell "Complete", will you Jonny? Two, St. John was right not to alter his plans; no one ever knows what the weather's going to do. Regardless of the weather predictions, just go ahead (unless you're talking about climbing tall mountains and there is a threat of lightning). For example, members of the Run With Jan group ran anywhere from 4 to 18 miles this past Sunday on the Burlington Bike Path. It rained the whole way, and after the recent heat and humidity it felt great.

Lastly, Swift was no meteorologist. Let me set the record straight: despite the popularity of the phrase, cats and dogs simply don't fall from the sky.

Guest in the House

Thanks Michelle for coming to visit, run, and play while my owners were away! And thanks for the excellent report card; you can dogsit anytime! O

Oscar, Why do you like porcupines so much? And where do you prefer to be quilled, nose, leg, or tail? -- Ali

I am an "Equal Opportunity" dog, who really believes in the best of all people and things. I don't care who you are; I just assume that you want to play with me! Porcupines, squirrels, deer, grown-ups, kids, grand-parents -- it doesn't matter who they are. I just want to walk up to all of them, wag my tail, put my feet on their chest, and give them a big sloppy lick right on the nose.

As for being quilled, I don't want to be quilled anywhere. I just want to play!

Oscar, what's your favorite place to swim?

I generally prefer anyplace where it's wet. We could be talking about a pond, lake, river, swamp, bog, mud-puddle, ocean, or bathtub. Actually, scratch the bathtub; tubs are bad news.

Oscar, Pavement hurts my pads. Where do you prefer to run, on pavement or dirt? -- Boulder

Boulder, Dirt is better for lots of reasons. One, it's simply more scenic and interesting. Two, dirt often implies fewer cars. Three, dirt is a softer surface, and I know my owner's knees can't handle too much pounding on pavement. Personally, I'll run anywhere -- in fact, I usually prefer to run than walk. Really, my only two speeds are "fast" and "sleeping."

One nice thing about the occasional stint on pavement is that the asphalt rounds off my toenails. That's helpful, because I don't really like using a file.

I was wondering how you keep yourself so clean? -- Rob

One word for you, Rob: "swimming."

Oscar, Love your blog! You seem so wise for your years. Any tips for how to stay cool during these "dog days" of summer? -- Ruth

Thanks Ruth! Ah, the dog days of summer... I love 'em! Many dogs find that digging a hole in the middle of the driveway, then laying in it, works well. Take my advice: this is a short-term solution. Next thing you know, your owner, carrying six bags of groceries, steps in the hole and twists an ankle. Not a good scene.

Outside, I recommend shade trees and tall grass. Indoors, pull the curtains and blinds over your windows to keep the house cool. Also, fans. For example, in the photo above, Scout the cat stays quite cool in a shady corner of the house. While I also enjoy a cool dip in the river during a summer day, Scout likes the shower. What can I say? Cats are just weird.

Regarding the comment about my wisdom and intellect at such a young age, I will point out that the old adage that dogs age 7 years for each human year may not be entirely on target. Ted Kerasote, author of Merle's Door (great read!), speaks of more recent studies that indicate that the first 2 years of a dog's life are more like 12 human years, with subsequent dog years equating to 4 human years. So this makes me about 17 or 18 years old -- a very wise age, if I do say so myself.

On the subject, any idea how they came up with the phrase "dog days"? Why not "cat days" or "cow days"? -- Ruth

It is not entirely clear who came up with the phrase or why. It is clearly, however, a reference to the hierarchy of animal importance: dogs, then the rest -- including cats and cows.

Do you incorporate speed work into your training schedule?

First off, it is important to specify what people mean when they talk about "speed work." In training, speed work usually refers to interval training at your VO2 max rate -- "the highest rate of oxygen consumption attainable during maximal or exhaustive exercise." The higher your VO2 max, the more oxygen your muscles can process during exercise. VO2 max is closely tied to genetics, but speed work -- particularly interval training -- can increase it.

Runners also use a term known as a "tempo run." Tempo runs refer to running for periods of time at a rate just below the "lactate threshold" pace. What the heck is this dog talking about? Your lactate threshold is the point at which the body's ability to clear lactate, the by-product of metabolism, can't keep up with lactate production. Generally, the lactate threshold is about your race pace. Tempo runs, then, are runs that incorporate periods where you run just below your race pace. Experts generalize by calling it "comfortably hard." For those of you with the ability to talk, just below your lactate threshold would be running at a rate where you can say a few words ("where's the dog?"), but you couldn't have a lengthy conversation. ("Right over there.") Tempo runs vary based on the length of the event you're training for, but they comprise of an easy warm-up, a period of time running just below the lactate threshold rate, a brief rest (running slowly or walking), another stretch of "comfortably hard," and a warm-down.

Back to your question, yes, I incorporate speed. I do interval training at the dog park and when I see wildlife. I don't usually do tempo runs; for me and my running partners, their tempo pace is my LSD -- long slow distance. I don't mind, though. They're working on it, and -- through training -- they can increase both their VO2 max rates and their lactate thresholds.

Oscar, why do you always come when called? Is it simply your good breeding? -- Howard

That is an excellent observation, Howard. I always come when called (if I deem the request appropriate and reasonable).

As to my breeding, my mother is a yellow lab who was rescued as a stray by a family in Virginia. Weeks later, I was born -- along with five siblings. Not all are yellow like me -- some of the markings on the others suggest that my father may have been all or partly hound. We spent our first four months playing in an outdoor pen, when a lady named Sonja Moore from an organization called Save-a-Pet came down, loaded us and forty other dogs that would have most likely wound up in a southern kill shelter into crates in a horse trailer, and drove us up to Vermont.

I think Sonja is a great lady, but I also think her trailer weaves slightly on the highway, so I got a little sick on my way up here. Therefore, I am not a fan of crates (research shows that it is the rare dog who actually lives in a "den" anyway). I do, however, enjoy car rides, as long as I can stick my head out the window (even in the dead of winter) and especially if I get to visit a dog park or go for a run at the end of it. I also love Vermont, where -- thanks to Sonja -- all 40-something of us were placed in loving homes.

What is your favorite post-run activity? -- Ali

If at all possible, I prefer to run some more. Otherwise, I like swimming, playing at the dog-park, or sleeping (see photo). Those are all pretty good.

How did you develop your excellent taste in red wine? Do you have any advice in selecting a bottle? -- Carol

Hemingway called wine the most civilized thing in the world. I agree, and an appreciation for good wine is also highly civilized. I usually approach a low-placed and unwatched wine glass slowly, sniff carefully, then gently nudge the it so that it falls over. Then I lap it right up off the floor or table before anyone has a chance to wipe it up. If a glass is filled full enough, I can often get a few licks right out of the glass.

As dogs are not allowed in grocery stores, I prefer to get my wine at Richmond Beverage, where they keep dog cookies behind the counter.

How did you get interested in running?

I started running as a puppy. Whenever somebody filled my puppy food dish, I would RUN over to it when they said "okay." In fact, I still do.