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Posts tagged ‘curly coated retriever’

The dog’s blog

I should probably consider renaming Deadlyjelly to Dog’s Blog or even Deadlyjed.

You’d think our dog was the most exciting thing going on in our lives – and I suppose you wouldn’t be far off. Sometimes we sit picking at loose threads on the arm of our sofa and pray for an escaped convict to stumble in the door, or a corpse to turn up at the bottom of the garden. And then Jed turns up with a dead possum and, well, there’s your corpse and the afternoon’s entertainment.

The lesser-spotted fat-headed colossus and his bow wow wave.

 Anyway, this post is a response to Jeep’s complaint about the dearth of photos of aquatic adventures. So the next time I went swimming, I brought my Canon EOS 350D SLR camera.

How is it that just typing the previous sentence brings on an overwhelming sense of ominous foreboding and dread; yet actually DOING IT seemed like a terrific idea?

Hindsight has a lot to answer for.

But I sensed Husband wince as I waded into the sea with the Canon slung around my neck.

I did take the precaution of looping the strap around my neck – just in case. Also, I remembered to remove the lens cap before launching.

At waist-depth I readied the camera and called Jed. Unfortunately, I’d overlooked how to fend off a furiously paddling 40kg curly coat retriever coming hard at me at the rate of approximately 30 knots with only a moisture-sensitive electronic device and a strand of seaweed. 

I decided escape and evasion was the optimal manoeuvre. So I’m wading backwards, giving artistic direction to the dog and snapping away, when I stumbled over a rock.

At considerable danger to myself – or at least considerable discomfort – I managed to hold the camera aloft as I sank into the briny depths. You have to admit I’m courageous.

Also stupid, but let’s not dwell on that.

To get the full effect, you really have to imagine being on an eye-level with this coming at you. I don't know whether I'll ever be stupid enough to try and capture THAT on camera, but on current form there's a fair chance.

 

Jed discovers barking and swimming is not a great idea. We all learned something.

This is what happens when you just press it

I’ve been meaning to post these videos of The Barfster for a while. I’m not sure when they were taken. The first could have been any time beyond six months ago. My father’s unwitting debut as home video director would either have been last December, or January of this year.

When we lived up Opanuku Road, we often walked the Ferndown Track due to its accessibility.

This first video is of Jed in one of his watering holes: a big puddle in the first creek along the track. There was always water in various states ranging from flowing to stinking viscosity, depending on the time of year.

Jed’s ritual has remained the same since he was a puppy:-

1/ Engage all fours for maximum impact with water
2/ Plunge around in order to identify ideal flop spot
3/ Sideways roll
4/ Stretch out back legs
5/ Carefully spit out ball & secure under front paws
6/ Blow bubbles

My father’s video shows Jed in his all-time-favourite mud-hole (rated according to various criteria, including but not limited to: mud quantity, depth, grunge, olfactory persistence, long term stinkeability) further up the track, and demonstrates the denouement:-

7/ Retrieve ball from under front paws
8/ Make like swamp monster
9/ Shake mud all over everything within the vicinity ≤10m

Heavy duck showers forecast

The first time Husband took Jed duck shooting, he ran away at the first volley of gun fire. (The dog not the husband.) He sprinted across paddocks, crashed through hedges, and splashed through creeks in his desperate bolt for the Outlaws’ farmhouse.

I had trained him to sit whenever he came to a gate, in order to open it without being impeded by a muddy puppy trying to batter it down with his tongue. Hence when he came to the farmhouse gate he sat in front of it over an hour, waiting for it to open.

Jed’s duck shooting experience was more successful this time round, despite his scooting under the car and refusing to come out. Eventually I went after him, crawling over several cowpats before I could get a good grip on his ear and pull him out.

I put on his lead before we set off after the hunters, who were stalking stealthily towards the creek. I had to coax Jed (it is possible that the uninformed observer might interpret ‘coaxing’ as coercion supported by some muted yet heartfelt verbal abuse).

Jed’s antipathy must have been the IDEA of gunfire, because he didn’t flinch when the guns went off; and when released, he charged across the creek and worked the ground like a pro.

He was extremely excited, and expended much energy swimming around in circles, but after the third duck shower he retrieved a real live semi-dead duck!

Husband pulled its head off.

He said it was an accident. Only intended to wring its neck, he said. Didn’t know his own strength, he suggested. Could have happened to anyone, he alleged.

Jed ran around the paddock with the duck’s head in his mouth.

As a child, I used to dream of the shape my future might take. Funny how NOT ONCE did Prince Charming rip the head off a duck.

I’m just saying

Screwed

In the litany of injury, Jed’s cracked dew claw went nearly unnoticed.

A couple of weeks ago, Jed and I were walking the Pipeline Track off Mountain Road. Jed skidded after his tennis ball and somersaulted into a rock, finishing up with a yelp. He appeared to limp a couple of paces, so I checked his foot.

There was no damage to the pad; when I palpated his paw, he just licked my face; so I investigated between his toes where he likes to store burrs even though they irritate the sensitive skin. There was no evidence of injury. Whatever the problem was, it didn’t stop Jed firing himself down the track after his ball, or impede his lifelong mission to nibble every blade of grass ON THE PLANET.

Afterwards, I was towelling mud off him and he flinched when I rubbed his foreleg. Looking closer, I saw his dew claw had splintered. Apart from slurping at it every now and then, it didn’t seem to bother him much, so I wasn’t concerned. Husband suggested taping up the claw; perhaps we should have done. But I just figured it would, um, grow out.

On New Year’s Day, we were woken by a high-pitched whine. Jed was obviously distressed; he paced around the bedroom, flung himself on the floor, rose again immediately, whined at the door. It was so long after the dew claw incident it never occurred to us that was the problem – until I noticed it sticking out at right angles. Although the claw was still attached, it was sheared right back to the bone; he must have caught it on something (maybe his teeth).

This is the dog who, after leaping off a six foot high sandbank and landing on his head, barely broke stride in his mission to retrieve his tennis ball. However, this time Jed was in a great deal of pain. He couldn’t get comfortable. A couple of times he attempted to lick his dew claw, but it was too tender. He yelped every time an air molecule brushed up against it. We tried to make him sit to assess the damage, but he retreated under the dining room table and refused to come out.

I have no problem with pain and can take it in my stride – so long as it’s not mine. My POINT is, I don’t get precious about my dog barfing, cutting himself, or peeing blood; but I felt sick at the sight of the gruesome angle of Jed’s claw and his obvious distress.

Husband was all for lopping the claw with our cheap, crappy, largely broken pair of dog clippers. In his defence, this is the same man who punched a hole through his lower lip with his tooth and wanted to put a couple of stitches in. Himself. I had to flush the sewing kit down the loo to deter him. If Andrew’s arm fell off, he would no doubt attempt to staple it back on if the hospital was more than 5 minutes drive away. Also assuming he could find the stapler – or fish it out of the U-bend.

All I’m saying is: Husband would not visit any sadism on his dog that he wouldn’t turn on himself and call masochism.

While The Butcher of Waitakere was distracted trying to locate the dog clippers, I called various local vet clinics. I wasn’t expecting much joy, since the entire country was closed from 1-5 January. However, one of the automatic voicemail systems supplied the telephone number of an out of hours clinic at 348 Rosebank Road (09-8207273).

“Well, a broken dew claw is not really considered an emergency,” said the nurse on the phone. “But it is incredibly painful for the animal. The emergency consultation fee is $125.”

“Hey, this website says the vet just rips it out with a pair of pliers,” said Andrew. “I have a pair of pliers downst-”

“No!” I said, grittily.

Of course Husband was just as concerned about his dog as I. In fact, the Swanson clinic was open the following morning, but Andrew opted to bring Jed to the out of hours clinic. But I have a feeling The Butcher of Waitakere is going to stick – at least if I have anything to do with it.

The vet advised putting Jed under general anaesthetic. He said a local involved an injection right by the claw which would be too painful – although I think he was referring to the possibility of Jed chomping on him.

“Did the vet give you an estimate?” asked the nurse. I was so anxious about our puppy I barely even heard the DONG! When I replied in the negative, she scrawled ‘No estimate provided’ across the consent form; evidently, I wouldn’t have noticed even had she beaten me savagely with the warning bell’s clapper.

When we returned to collect him two hours later, despite being groggy, Jed dragged me into the waiting room. I knew he was ok when we thought we might have to ask the vet to surgically remove Jed’s nose from a border collie’s butt.

$420.

That was the total of the itemised bill including five different types of drug: sedatives, anaesthetic and painkillers.

But even though I feel totally suckered, whenever I see Jed bounding after a tennis ball I can’t help feeling it was worth it.

I know, I know.

I AM a sucker.

AWW!

090317 Porn star dog

So, you know how Jed recently blew away the competition to take the World’s Best Dog title? Well, here is your opportunity to own some of his genes. From the same breeder and parentage as The Esteemed Jedster:

Red curly coat retriever puppies

AREN’T THEY JUST THE CUTEST ITTY BITTY LITTLE FLUFFY THINGS YOU’VE EVER SEEN?! I’m working on Husband to get a playmate for Jed. I particularly like the little fella third from left, who reminds me of my late paternal grandmother – although I might have to find another angle to convince him

Ode to My Puppy

Jed you are so cute and furry
Fetching sticks in such a hurry
Shredding them across the floor
Scoring scratches down the door
When you slobber, itch and snort
Juggle spiders for the sport
Dismember things because you can
You’re almost like a little man
But when I see you eating faeces
It’s clear you are a different species

 

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Billabong dog

 

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Jed guards stick

 

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Huh?

 

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Jed makes friends easily

Prepare to be brutalised by overwhelming CUTENESS

Please note: this site accepts no responsibity for extreme physical reactions or noise pollution emitted by you or any persons in the immediate vicinity that may result in viewing the following images. Viewing is undertaken at viewer’s own risk.

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Introducing Jed, the newest addition to our family. He is a curly coat retriever, 16 weeks old, 15kg, and criminally adorable.

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Jed shows piece of string who’s boss.

Having researched curly coats, I can’t understand why anyone would want to get any other type of dog, unless you have an interest in canine topiary. I have no idea why nobody has ever heard of curly coats. They are loyal, affectionate, evidently gorgeous, don’t shed hair (much), hunt and retrieve, and they actually dive and swim underwater (that was my first criterion in selecting a pooch).

When they met Jed, Sister In Law and her boyfriend, Taffy, were so enamoured they abandoned their plans to acquire a labradoodle. They drove back to Dunedin the following day and chose a bitch from the same litter.

Just when you thought it couldn’t get any cuter (I’m tricky like that), please meet Jed’s sister Carlotta on the right.

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Siblings share a tennis ball.

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Jed contemplates life, love and the universe – or his next feed.

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I had a similar relationship with my brothers.

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Puppies contemplate the future and their place in it – or their next feed.

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Lottie and her backside.

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Lottie discovers her inner wolf

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