dog – Page 5 – Gnawing the Bone

Sleeping on the Job

Published on April 12, 2013December 24, 2013 by Raud Kennedy1 Comment

Dreaming away. — Dreaming away while Raud sneaks up with his camera.

"No, I wasn't asleep. I was just resting my eyes." — “No, I wasn’t asleep. I swear. I was just resting my eyes.”

Portland Rain

Published on April 11, 2013December 24, 2013 by Raud Kennedy5 Comments

Fleegle Needs a Job

Published on April 8, 2013 by Raud Kennedy9 Comments

Fleegle has been with me now for two months and a week and he is turning out to be one of the easiest dogs I’ve ever lived with. Some of this is experience on my part and having learned not to stress the small stuff, to have faith that with persistent shaping and time Fleegle will figure out what trains me to give him the biscuit and what doesn’t, most of it is Fleegle.

As a dog trainer who does private lessons in people’s homes, I usually get called when the owner has reached a tipping point with their dog’s behavior, so a normal dog to me is one that has a half dozen issues that need to be considered before Continue reading “Fleegle Needs a Job” →

I’m glad my ears don’t do that.

Published on April 4, 2013May 16, 2014 by Raud Kennedy3 Comments

Raud Kennedy - What Ears You Have — Lab – “How do you keep the bugs out?”

Raud Kennedy - but don't yours get hot — Corgi – “But don’t your ears get hot?”

"Whatever." — Lab and Corgi – “Whatever.”

The Poop Cult

Published on March 31, 2013June 16, 2014 by Raud Kennedy15 Comments

The two former strays stood at the edge of the dog park away from the other dogs. Recently adopted together, they were easing into a comfortable life of leisure. Both had a fair amount of border collie in them but one’s fur was rust and the other’s a blue merle. The rust just finished pooping a few paces away and steam rose from it in the morning chill. The man who had adopted them broke away from his friends and started across the sparse grass toward his two dogs, baggy in hand.

The rust walked over to the blue merle and bumped him with his hip, his gaze on their approaching two-legger. “Now watch him closely. He does this every time. Like one of those dogs in the kennel who’s caught the tail chasing crazies, he carefully picks up the poop in a baggy, ties it nice and tight like he doesn’t want to lose any, and carries it away. It’s some sort of obsession.” Continue reading “The Poop Cult” →