have a glass of single malt and a cigar.

Well, I wanted to try Jake in the water for some time now. And here was the opportunity: a park where we walk now and then has a river with clean entrance. So, we tried. I walked into the river holding the leash and Jake promptly sat on the beach all legs in front of him and nose raised to the sky. He did not know what this thing was that did not want to hold him up and was not going to touch it! I pulled on the leash a bit and called him; he slowly and cautiously walked into the water.

I have to mention that my Airedale did not want to go in the water either; I pushed him off the docks and he bobbed on the water like an empty pillow case, all four legs on the surface, all pointing in four different directions. He swam, of course, and got out of the water, but he never went into the water again, not on his own. I wanted to avoid this with Jake.

So, we tried. He came as close to me as he dared and stopped. i called him and lightly tugged on the leash - and he made a jerk, reached the bottom, and leaped. Away from the shore. And landed a foot behind me with a splash. He promptly turned and went for the shore. When he eventually touched the bottom, he was a bit surprised that he was back on all fours and went berserk with joy. Everyone around was jumped on and got wet.

A couple of minutes later we tried again and things were a bit smoother. On the third try he took some time but he came over and swam almost on his own.



We have a good first swim under the belt! He might even come to like it. In time. I hope.

the great writers, from Homer to Twain to Dürrenmatt.

Now and then Jake is left in the back yard all by himself. For short periods of time he can amuse himself by chewing sticks or a piece of raw hide left there for him to find, or by just lying in the sun and doing nothing.

So it was yesterday. He was left alone for some time in the morning. It was raining the might before and the ground was wet. After wandering in the wet flower bushes for some time, he was wet too and his face lost its fluffy look. He slowly walked out in the middle of the yard and lied down in the sun, as I thought, to dry up. That was when I noticed that he was playing with something. Since I could see his raw hide lying away to the side from Jake, I went to take a look. He dropped something small, wet, and grey. It was a small mouse. He was quite content to let me dispose of it. He just looked at me as picked it up and slowly walked away with the look of someone who is satisfied with the job well done.

Then he stretched out in the sun. For a well deserved rest.

Part 2.

We went for a walk in the park in the afternoon. We do that sometimes, when the weather is agreeable. Jake was his normal self, pulling every which way and sniffing something only a dog would be interested in sniffing.

On the way back he was quieter and walked in a steady trot. That's why when he lunged and pounced with his front paws, he got our attention. The next thing we knew, there was a long squeak and something small and brown went very fast in the grass away from Jake. He pounced again, aiming with front paws at the animal. At this point he was at the end of his leash and his pounce was cut shot - he missed. The mouse (we think it was a mouse) disappeared.

Apparently this is how he hunts: drop his 20 lb from one foot height on the head of the mouse. I suppose, it's like an elephant stepping on my head: i do not think I'd survive. And the whole hunt is silent. He growls when he plays but not when he is in hunting mode. I guess, growling is more for fun than anything else although when he confronted a dog he did show teeth and he growled. But that is a different story.

With summer came garden work and the water hose. Unlike my Airedale, Jake goes right at the water stream and works his way up close to the hose. He tries to catch water into his mouth and shake it like he does with his other toys. The water does not cooperate, and he gets aggressive and growls and gurgles. The sounds he makes in his throat are quite interesting and show his creative side. One might say, it's a dog's version of Chick Corea's improvisations: you never know where the main theme is going. Very quickly he becomes wet all over and water just pours off him, but the excitement level is way too much for him to stop. After a while, I stop shooting water at him and he stops and shakes.

Just for experimental purposes, I shot water at him while he was shaking. Normally, a dog would finish shaking even if the water comes right at him; it's kind of an uninterruptable holy cycle with dogs. Not so with Jake. He jumps in the middle of a shake and continues wiggling in the air, which is a funny sight: his does not have a support point anymore and is torn between maintaining a balance and catching water.

All in all, we have fun.

Over time, Jake played with various toys in the yard but it was predominantly a tennis ball or branches he finds in the woods. The branches he laboriously brings back, sometimes pulling them on the trail for some 50 yards. They catch on the trees and bushes but the kid is persistent and finds a way to bring them in. Then he proceeds to chew on them. So, I got tired of the lumber yard look he imparts on the back yard and decided to pick a smaller, thinner branch and play with him.

That was a divinely inspired thought! With a 3 foot long branch I can run him for 20 mins barely moving from my spot. Like a cat, he runs after the branch, as I move its tip on the ground, and jumps at it. He growls and jumps and tries to grab the branch. I move the branch or lift it so he cannot catch it and he turns around and goes after it again... And again... And again... Now and then, I let him catch it and take it away from me. He starts demolishing it ferociously; he growls and shakes it, and spits the leaves and splinters. I do not let him kill it right away or the fun is over, so, I take it away from him and he knows that if he wants to play, he has to give it up. And we go for another cycle. He runs until he literally drops panting. By the end of the game, the branch is gone, I clean up the yard, which is not much, and we go home. To drink and to relax on the cold tile floor.

Jake has grown up. The spurt of the growth stopped at about 7 months and his weight stabilized at about 20lb. However, his coloring continues to change. He is acquiring that distinct look of the Welshies, with a black jacket and tan legs and the muzzle. He turned out to be of that reddish hue of tan that is valued in the Welshies; his puppy jet black is being replaced by the mature black and pepper color of the jacket.

The fur all around needed a trim at about 6 months and he got it then with an old trimmer. I have since acquired a new Andis trimmer and it works much quieter and better. Jake tolerates it much better too. He is still not comfortable with face trimming and so the trim does not look the way I want it, but it is close.

The time has come! Jake got his balls removed. Overall, his experience seems to be not very traumatic. He did not refuse to go back to the clinic and was friendly with everybody. However, he had only one testicle descended, so they had to go into his stomach to retrieve the other one. Jake ended up with an extra incision, and we had to part with some extra money. They did not tell us to get a cone and I should have questioned this. As a result, Jake was licking himself for 3 days over the long weekend before I took him back to the vet and they saw the inflammation he inflicted on himself.

Now, with the cone, he is healing much better. I can apply cortisone to the stitches and this takes away some of the itching and helps healing. The problem is that the cone does not allow him to help himself with the paws when he is chewing the raw hides. So, he is either juggling the RH inside the cone, or comes to me to hold it for him while he is chewing the thing. He figured that out pretty quickly.

He also needs to slow down but I am at a loss as to how to explain this to Jake. He listens attentively but ignores everything I say. Kind of like Mike. So, he is on the leash at all times outside the house, and the walks are short and slow. He has all his energy cooped up and whenever he has a chance, he runs like he was shot out of a cannon. He makes sharp turns on the grass and slips and slides on his side, trying to stop the motion by grabbing the grass. That does not help much but at least he has the grass to chew on.

We hope that his healing will proceed without undue delay. Keeping his movement restrained is difficult for all of us, Jake included.

The rains and the time combined to make nice grass cover in the yard. Normally, Jake just runs there chasing a tennis ball or a stick. But this time we spent some time out on the grass and he had the time to relax and investigate. And he decided that it's good eating.

Apparently, some things are simply built-in. All dogs I knew ate grass to clean up their stomachs. To the best of my knowledge, nobody taught them to do that. I certainly did not teach my dogs to eat grass but they did. Jake is no different. He stuffed himself to the point when he started regurgitating it back. But since he is not a ruminant, it all ended up on the ground.

His second round on the next day was executed at a much more measured pace. This is pretty much how he went about it, you can see it in the pic below - Jake the grass mower.



And this grass eating, of course, does not come without consequences. Jake now downloads "grass reinforced poop". This means that sometimes residuals still hang behind him when he thinks it's all done. First time he was rather annoyed and surprised. I had to help him a bit and he did not object. Last time he managed to shake off the residuals himself. As he learns the proper grass dosages, it will all sort itself out and he won't need my help.

As long as he stays way from the plastic bags... My Airedale put on an occasional show after eating one but for this small one they can be dangerous.

We went on vacation and the only option we had was to put Jake in cold storage, i.e. kennel. We found one close to us and they had a very nice offer to kennel Jake for a day for free. We tried, and Jake did not seem to object. He was happy and perky when we picked him up. No negative reactions we visible. The place look clean and did not smell. Well, if there are dogs, there is smell but it was not objectionable.

So, we provided the kennel with his food, crate liner, toys, and chewables, and left the dog there. He went in with tail wagging.

When we came back, he greeted us like a dog should. He was in good spirits and in good shape. Which cannot be said about his crate liner: it was ripped apart. Huge holes on both sides and the owner told us that she kept throwing the "white stuff" away as he was digging deeper into the liner. Well, he was on his own in the crate. They let the dogs out four times a day for an hour and the rest of the time they are in the crates. Jake was not used to that but he adapted.

We got back a different dog. He is much less excitable, much steadier I would say; I want to say "he matured". He is much better on his own, pays more attention to the chewing. On the other hand, his training has taken a hit: we need to recover our commands.

On the whole, it was not a bad experience. Since we have no alternative, we have to live with this kennel and as kennel go, it's all right.

Well, it happened. Yesterday my wife was in the garage and, naturally, Jake was right there with her. Maybe in time he will take less interest in life around him but for now anything and everything attracts his attention.

So, while my wife was looking through the gardening things in a corner, behind her back, apparently, a minor drama was unfolding. I cannot provide details because the person, who could supply me with them, was not watching it, and the one who has all the info is not telling. The most I can say is that when Jake and my wife entered the house, he had something in his mouth. When told "Drop It!" Jake did as he was taught and down plopped a dead mouse. My wife does not like mice but she does not go into hysterics at the sight of one. She handled it well, with paper towel and a trash bag. The mouse looked like a field mouse. It's the one you are looking at.



Whence it came from, whither it was going, what mouse clan it belonged to -- none of this we we will ever know. I does not have the blood on the outside, so if Jake indeed killed it and not just found a dead one, he must have strangled it. At this point, we have all the shots and so we are not terribly worried.

Good hunting kid!

It looks like the teething is over. He does not seem to have any milk teeth left. The permanent ones are not all in place, some are still coming through, and now and then he leaves a blood mark on his chewables. The new teeth are not as sharp as his milk ones but they are, naturally, considerably bigger.

He also seems to get a handle on the raw hide and similar things, i.e. he discovered that he might actually enjoy chewing them. That he does, but he also picks up all kinds of things on his walks - sticks, dry leaves, dog shit, you name it. Pieces of flower bed fence are a fair game too, as far as he is concerned.



With the spring coming, we will need to explain to him what is permitted to chew in the yard. That's one of the things that a dog mother would teach her young - what is safe to eat outside. I guess, I will be his mom for a bit.

Just when we thought thought that the winter is over and the spring is with us, a freak snow storm hit us. Dumped some wet snow in the evening and by the dawn, it was all frozen. Thank god, it was not much.

As we left the house for the last walk of the day, Jake came out on the stoop and froze at the sites of huge snowflakes slowly drifting down in the yellow of the entrance light. He stood there for a good minute, nose up in the air, moving side to side just a bit, sniffing the snow. Then he ran and dug his muzzle into the show on the front lawn.

He had fun all 40 minutes of our walk and came back home resembling a snowman rather than a dog. The weather did not feel pleasant but the sight of the snow was something special.

One lower canine has been lost and that happened quite painlessly; the other does not seem to want to go; Now he has the permanent canine pushing the old one out of the way and this one seen to bother him a bit - he chews on raw hide more willingly and leaves blood marks there. It seems also that his molars are cutting through, and that can be the real reason for his discomfort, not the double canine.

He also found that snow crust is just what he needs to sooth discomfort in his mouth: he digs holes and exposes the edge of the crust, and then chews on it. And leaves blood marks on the snow.

Observations related to global warming while the build is burning the CPU cycles...

The winter has come with the snows and winds,
the season we know well.
The hassle of dressing for cold outside,
the pain of sand on the floor inside,
and taking the dog for a walk on ice
while slipping and sliding is not very nice
- some might consider it hell.

But braving the weather we sally forth -
we come from the northern land.
At regular times we pull on the boots
and put on the parka remembering roots,
being glad that the toilet is clean and warm
and only the dog may have to squirm
when sliding on icy patch.

He comes from the tribe that's renowned for toughness -
the terriers they are called.
And so the dog upholds the pride
of his ancient feisty and brickfaced tribe:
he holds up his head and says "ar-wuf"
to show the world that he's really tough -
and charges into the cold.

The wind in the face is stabbing like knives,
the yellow beard is flapping.
The nature calls but resisting hard
the terrier runs around the yard
fighting gallantly the wind and the cold
until he can no longer hold
and squats in the corner yapping.

He does what he does with that dignified look
and stands up in thought.
Should I plow the snow with the tail in the air?
Go home and sleep without a care?
The decision is made - we are going back
to the food, to the cookies, to the bed.
And to sleep.

There was a snowfall a couple of days ago, about a foot of it. And now the snow is slightly crusted on the top and very dry. When it breaks, it makes that distinctive hollow sound. When you toss a piece of a crust, if makes this almost ringing sound: it's not ice, it's the show that slightly melted and withered in the wind, and is now a porous matrix of the snow grains welded together forming echo chambers inside.

Jake likes to play with the pieces of snow crust and considering that he is starting to teethe, it makes a very attractive plaything: he can not only catch it but chew on it and eat it. And he does that with gusto.

He also found out that he can run and slide on the snow crust. He seems to enjoy it when he is in control: runs after a tennis ball and starts sliding a foot before it. He does not stop near the ball, of course, and keeps sliding, curving downhill until he hits a bush or a fence.

When he slides accidentally, he has this look of upset about him: "what the hell happened to my hind quarters? where did they go?"

One way or another, he seems to be just fine with the cold and the snow.

A snow storm, about 1 foot of snow. Jake seems perfectly OK with it and does not mind doing his doggy business in the deep snow. He is also very light and does no sink when he walks on the fresh snow.

Several days ago Jake lost 3 of his teeth and the next day he lost his forth - one more lower incisor. He is now hissing at me through those holes, which is rather amusing - he looked like an old hag.

Since then, some new, permanent, teeth started showing up even before the milk teeth fell out. The permanent ones are coming out and pushing his milk teeth out of the way. He looks like a shark now: when he opens his mouth, one can see two rows of incisors in various stages of maturity.

For a small dog, his teeth seem a bit too big for his mouth. But he is still growing, and his mouth should be a bit bigger in the end, so the teeth should be all in their rightfull places.

Right on cue, when Jake hit 4 months, his milk teeth started coming loose. He lost two upper incisors and a lower one in one evening and he looked positively foolish with his gaping holes in the mouth. Next day he lost one more lower incisor. After that, when he bares his teeth growling, as he usually does, he looks like a Wicked Witch of the West: mean and toothless, and funny.

Loosing those teeth does not seem to affect him in any way, his behavior is just the same. The new, permanent teeth are already coming through and are quite visible.

Some days are just too cold: it's not so much the temperature but the wind. When the temperature drops, it is almost always accompanied by the wind around here. It blows hard and the little fellow just does not have enough fur on him to be comfortable. His fur is not thick enough and he does not have the undercoat. This is one of the problems with the fall litters. Spring litters do not have this problem: by the time the winter comes, they have fully developed coats.

So, we got a winter jacket for the animal. Surprisingly enough, he did not really fight it, he made only a token effort to take it off. We actually have two coats: the one we bought and the one I made. Mine fits better because it was made for the current dog size. It is also made with a kind of sealed small cell foam so wind does not go through no matter what. It's grey in color and he looks a bit funny in it. When he sits, he looks kind of like a Russian general in a grey coat watching troops goose stepping by him.

When he comes out of the house, he often sits down on an elevated piece of landscape and surveys the land and the creatures on it (me) with a watchful eye. Like a general reviewing the troops, before getting on with the business at hand. Very purposeful. Very solemn. Very quiet.