Uncanny is one word for it. ExtraTerrestrial should be another one. It’s likely a combination of both. I’m referring to Quinns capacity to blindly sense that there is another canine in the greater vicinity, and not only that, the level of danger that she feels it presents to her. This ‘level of danger’, from what I’ve been able to unravel and piece together, seems to be determined by the overall size of the canine divided by the sound their collar makes multiplied by the distance this creature is away from her.
If Dog isn’t riding shotgun in the work van or sleeping like a baby in the sleep van, it’s very likely we are on a job site. If we aren’t on a job site, then inevitably we can be found at a well maintained grassy park, ball field or the like. No matter the spot, Quinn has been guaranteed to have her trusted work bed within paw’s reach. I should know, I gave the guarantee.
At first glance, this trusted work bed appears to look no different than any other round dog bed one might find at any old pet store for $39. In fact, from a size and shape standpoint, it looks identical to the ones the Kirkland Company manufactures for Costco and sells for $29.
The reason Quinn’s work bed cost a whopping $159 about 4 years ago is because the bed cover is constructed out of an ultra durable canvas. Imagine if Carhartt made a dog bed. It has proven over and over that it can go the extra mile. It can handle sharp, jagged rocks, and it can hold up fine when placed in the mud. It can cope with paint, stain, grease, rain, coffee, beer, wine, you name it. In fact I did name it. I named it RoundHouse. That’s correct, another name for another dog bed, and trust me, I have my reasons. Quinn knows darned well by now that RoundHouse symbolizes one of her safest, most sturdy places on her earth. We are going into our fifth season with this tenacious work bed, and it appears to have plenty more life in the tank.
It should be noted that this intuitive radar of hers is always on display on some level, and certainly not limited to her being on or near RH. However, her most accurate and decisive aforementioned calculations have proven to take place when she is either on, or within close proximity to her one and only RoundHouse. And that should make a lot of sense, at least it does to me. 99 out of 100 times when Quinn feels that need to sound her horn, it is when the canine activity numbers have been proven to be greater. Sure she needs to do some figuring from time to time in both the work van and the sleep van, but in both those cases, there has NEVER been another canine up her ass. However, a popular grassy field, likely filled with the Chuck-It-Teers, The Frisbee Freds, and their easily distractible canines, that scenario will obviously transfer a much higher level of protective vigilance out of my No-Eyed Canine.
For example, if we are chilling at our favorite grassy ball field, minding our own business, and 100 yards away there is a three pack of let’s call them Bichon Frise’s, Quinn will feel their presence long before I ever catch their wind. This is sure to prompt her slightly concerned mumbling sounds, possibly getting as revved up as sending out several high pitched meaningful dog chirps. I’m then real quick to tease/validate her by saying that although her math is spot on, and that there are indeed some canines in the general vicinity, they are harmless little fur balls that are very far away, and on a leash.
Now if those dogs get too close, say 100 feet or less, those same chirping sounds will become a little more discriminate, certainly a little more intense, and she will likely sit up tall in her bed and assume the ready position. I’m still quick to calmly let her know that she need not be so up in arms. “Dog, those are pip-squeaks. On leash at that. I know it’s tough completely ignoring that triple metal clanking sound, and not being able to set what it is, but trust me, you gotta let it go.” I always give her all benefits of all doubts, allowing her to voice whatever opinion she may have with her perceived notion at large.
Sticking with the ball park theme, let’s now suppose we are sitting there minding our own business and off in the distance, undetected by the human ear, is the unleashed 70 pound Yellow Lab, likely friendly, submissive, playful, all of it. Even from 100 yards away, Quinn puts herself on much higher alert than she does with the Bichon, the Pug, or the like. If this Lab gets within a 50 yard radius, Quinn is definitely off her bd, hair is sticking straight up along her back, and she digs up a more callous voice.
If that dog has a misguided demeanor to it, that’s when I step in. If that dog shows that canine math is not its strong suit or perhaps doesn’t piece together that my dog has no eyes, that’s again when I need to step in. Now if that dog shows me calm, submissive, and understanding behavior, then I slowly but surely encourage the acquaintance. It can be a delicate situation, especially if the mindless owner is talking on their cell phone while shouting at me that his or her dog is friendly. “HE”S FRIENDLY!!!”
Quinn’s math can be laser accurate. Admittedly it can also be off base from time to time. Nobody is perfect. I’m just so thankful that she can lock into her other senses, especially as it pertains to protecting her own well being. When I hear her begin to mumble and fidget, many times the other dog isn’t even the picture yet. At least not in my picture. Countless times I’ve had to tell Dog to pipe down because nothing is there, yet sure enough, here comes that frisky Mini Schnauzer from around the corner. One time, on a frigid afternoon in Truckee CA, I remember Quinn being bothered by a canine from two streets over. It’s like she gets a whiff of a sound, and that’s all it takes for her to set off an alarm.
My favorite game to play happens when somebody else is with us and Quinn starts twitching amuck, yet neither one of us see another canine. That can be my queue to have a little fun with the situation and say to that somebody, “$5 says it’s an excitable 45 pound Blue Merle named Bingo, 6 years old, slight limp, tail docked, coming from that direction in five seconds, four seconds, three, two, one, Bingo.” Whether my math is accurate or not, I like to have fun with it, because having fun is what counts most.