I Should Have Seen This Coming

So what did Sam get in the mail? If you guessed his own brand new agility starter kit, you'd be right!

I've done some agility work with Sam before on homemade obstacles--staggered crates for stairs, an old picture frame for a hoop; you get the picture. He had such fun learning the obstacles and getting rewarded for completing them correctly that I decided to order him an actual agility set that could be assembled without lugging five heavy crates into the yard. The kit has four obstacles: a jump bar, a tunnel, weave poles, and a pause box. Since Sam has done jump and hoop work before, I decided we'd try out those two obstacles first before introducing the weave poles and pause box.

The jump bar


The tunnel

I set up the tunnel and jump bar and set to work getting Sam accustomed to the obstacles. He took to them almost immediately, but not quite in the way I wanted. The tunnel, for instance, he would uproot by crawling underneath it rather than through it. So I enlisted Dad's help and tried a new tack. Dad would hold Sam on one end of the tunnel, and I'd call Sam from the other, camera ready, to get a picture of him going through.

Now, in my enthusiasm for Sam's new agility set, I forgot several key things that should have sent up red flags. One, it had been raining most of the day, so Sam had a ton of pent-up energy he had yet to expend. Two, I didn't have my clicker with me, which lets Sam know it's training time, not play time. Three, Sam would be entering the tunnel at a ridiculous velocity only 6-month-old Labs can achieve. Four, Sam has a habit of tackling people he likes. Five, I'm top on the list of people Sam likes.

What a good angle!

What a--no, Sam, stop, stop, STOP!!

On the plus side, I got some good pictures of Sam barreling through the tunnel. On the negative side, Sam took me OUT. If any of you have seen Waterboy, you'll know my pain. Sam Bobby-Bouchered my ass straight into the ground. He smashed into me where I knelt on the ground, crushing my glasses into my face and knocking me for a backflip. Eventually I ended up sprawled on the ground with scrapes to my leg and arm, a bruised cheek, and a soaked camera. But Sam had fun, right?

Subsequent attempts to get Sam through the tunnel--this time without bodily injury--were unsuccessful. Sam seemed to think that the tunnel was more fun to abscond with than to run through, and in short order he'd ripped it up and was prancing around the yard with it billowing out behind him like an oversized windsock. I decided it was time to move on to the jump bar.

The theft


The getaway


The aftermath

Unfortunately, Sam wasn't ready to give up his thieving so soon. He grabbed the jump bar, pulled it down, and ran off with it. Before we could get it back, he snapped it in two and chewed the ends. Once we put it back together it was a bit worse for the wear, but still usable.

This is not part of the manufacturer's instructions


It still works, just a little more bent than before

Even though Sam has done jumps before, I could not for the life of me get him to jump over the bar. Even when I jumped over it myself, Sam would just go around. After he stole the jump bar twice more, I finally gave up.

You're supposed to go over, not around

Argh! I give up!

Hopefully in the coming days I'll be able to try again with the agility set and achieve better results. I know what to do now: make sure Sam isn't in one of his manic moods and have the clicker and treats handy. And, by all means, NEVER stand in the line of fire.

Thursday Weigh-In!

As promised, Sam's Thursday weigh-in!

Sam weighs 70.5 pounds!

Sam's growth seems to be slackening off a bit, going from +2.5 pounds per week to +1.9 pounds per week. He's still gaining weight, certainly, but at least he's not headed for horse status this year.

What Could it Be?

A package came for Sam today... what could it be? Place your bets!

That's right, Sam, it's for you! Look at that smile!



Better open it!



Take this! And that! Yahh!



Almost there!



Got it open! What's inside...?



Another box?!



No more Mr. Nice Dog



I'll squish it out!



It's finally open!



Oh boy!

Sam knows what it is. Do you? Find out tomorrow!

Time Out

I'm taking a break today and tomorrow to focus on job interviews. I finished a job fair today and have another interview tomorrow I need to prepare for. Someone's gotta bring home the milkbones around here, right?

But I won't leave you empty-handed. Here are some pictures from Sam's younger days (10 or 11 weeks old I believe) to hopefully keep you occupied until I return Thursday! (And yes, we will have a Thursday weigh-in on Thursday. Sam's surgery sort of threw a wrench in that schedule, but he is healed and ready to step on the scale again.)

Let's skate!



All right! Cowabunga, dude!



I am NOT skating next to that creepy plant.



Go, Sammy, go!



Sometimes it's just more fun to bite the skateboard than to ride it.

Sam and Nelly

Sam's favorite playmate is Nelly, the two-year-old French mastiff next door. (For those of you keeping track, Sadie the pit bull and Zoe the boxer live on one side; Nelly the French mastiff and Tango the bull mastiff live on the other.) We have a gate connecting our two yards, and either Sam or Nelly will sit and wait at the gate until the other shows up.

We let Nelly into our yard so the two young 'uns can run and wrestle and wear each other out. Nelly lives with Tango, who is over 200 lbs and nine years old, so he doesn't have the patience to play with her as much as she'd like. Solution: Sam! Both dogs know each other's names and run to the gate when asked, "Where's Nelly?" or "Where's Sam?"

There is one downside to playing with Nelly, though--she slobbers. Not usual slobber. Gratuitous, foaming, ridiculous slobber. She's a mastiff, and she's got the chops for it. Sam usually comes back from playing with her looking like he's dunked his head in the pool. Case in point:

Slobber aside, I'm glad Sam has made friends with all the neighbor dogs. Bud and Thor were always very reactive, and Thor tended to be dominant and aggressive around other dogs. Sam just wants to make friends, and since he's been allowed to play with his four neighbor dogs since day one, there isn't any aggression or ill will. They're all just one big happy (slobbery) family!

Drool-head!

Do You See What I See?

Sam has this interesting little feature I think bears mentioning. I'm 95% sure it's a sign.

You see, as Sam grew older, his adult coat came in and he gradually lost his puppy fur. Eventually the lighter puppy fur was relegated to a stripe on the back of his head, and then it coalesced into two points, one above each ear.

See the lighter fur spots?

Sam has still not lost these two puppy points. But I think you can guess why. Take a closer look:


That's right! Sam is growing devil horns! I always knew he was full of mischief, and now the little troublemaker's growing the horns to prove it.

As of yet no bony protrusions have formed under the spots, but I'm keeping a sharp eye out. I have no doubt the little scamp will start sprouting them soon. Either that or lose the last of his puppy fur. But I'm going with horns.

Oops!

Today I took Sammy to PetsMart, and before I left, I tried to hurriedly fashion him a new bandanna. I had all the materials on hand; I simply needed to transfer an iron-on image to a plain bandanna and be done. The image was of a little blue alien with the words "I'm a little monster" in orange around it. Easy enough, right?

I read the directions through, then put the design on and set the iron on top of it. A minute later I picked up the iron to find this:

This was not the desired result

Yes, despite reading the instructions, I still put the design on upside down, thereby adhering it to the iron, not the bandanna. Thankfully, Mom started cracking up instead of being angry with me, but I do have to buy a new iron tomorrow to replace the now-defunct one.

So Sam wore a plain yellow bandanna to PetsMart instead of a custom one, but that seemed all right by him. He got to see his old trainer from puppy school, and most of the employees knew him and came over to pet him. As usual, I let him pick out a new toy (since I just threw away two of his old ones this morning), and this time he chose a big bear. Usually I don't let him get plush toys because he eats the stuffing, but this one was just a fur pelt and five squeakers. I had to fight to get it back from him just to put it in the basket.

Guarding his bear

I gave it to him when we got home, and he's been squeaking it ever since. The squeakers all have different tones, so the sounds from the kitchen alternate between dying mouse and dying duck. Sam seems to be having a great time with it, though, so here's hoping it survives for more than a week.

Rawr! Bear love.

Tiny Bubbles

Remember all that stuff I said about Sam being a jumpin' fool? Boy do I have more pictures to prove it.

Easily the most entertaining toy (for me) I ever bought for Sam was a $1 bottle of bubbles. Sam needed no instruction; he instinctively knew the bubbles must die. He loves chasing them, snapping at them, and vaulting into the air after them. For this evening's spectacle, I brought my camera along. And this, my dear friends, is the result.

Note: Although the depth may be difficult to tell in a few pictures, Sam is completely off the ground by a good six inches in most of the shots.

May I present to you: Sam vs Bubbles.

Jump!


The rare North Florida Labrador Jig


He's like one of those dolphins from Sea World


CHOMP


Look, ma, no hands!


Must...concentrate...


Reach for it!


Getting a little too close for my liking


Absolutely terrifying

And not quite so terrifying any more.
D'oh! Walk it off, Sam, walk it off.

Driving Mister Sam

Sam used to hate car rides. The day we brought him home, he made the most god-awful noises I've ever heard from a living creature. He didn't sound like a dog, he sounded like a goat, a dying cat, and a radioactive toucan having some sort of battle royale in the backseat. Since I wanted to spare my eardrums from this during subsequent vet visits and the like, I took to conditioning Sam to the car--and that, along with some pills from the vet to quell motionsickness (since he did vomit a couple times in the backseat) and an unflagging need to be wherever I am, has succeeded in transforming Sam's initial dislike of the car into a downright obsession.

Nowadays, you'd be hard-pressed to keep Sam out of the car. He jumps in the front seat if Dad and I have to switch the order of our cars, just to ride for two minutes in the driveway. He'll jump in the front seat when I come home and am closing the gates behind me, usually stepping on whatever lunch I've brought back (R.I.P. Subway cookies, you will be missed). If I'm leaving in the car, Sam tries to jump in too--either crawling over top of me, or waiting until I go to open the gates and slipping in undetected.

4 months old, the age he learned to jump in an unoccupied car unannounced

Instead of fighting to get him back out of the car, I usually just take him with me. I strap him in to the backseat, roll down the windows, and go. Sam's accompanied me to the bank, the dry cleaners, Blockbuster, lunch trips, the library, you name it--any quick errand I can run without frying him in the car. And since my car has a remote start feature, I point the A/C at Sam, crank it up, and then start the car remotely after I get out so he's left with cool air blowing on him instead of baking Florida sun. When I return I usually find him sitting right in front of the double vents, his ears blowing back, his tail thumping against the seat.

A relaxing ride in the car for Sammy

Even better than the obvious enjoyment Sam gets out of car rides, though, is watching the happiness he brings to other people. I see kids in other cars point excitedly at him as we pass by, his big ol' blockhead hanging out the window, ears and jowls a-flutter in the wind. People on the sidewalk or waiting at bus stops see him, smiling as he stares at them with his ears perked and his tail wagging. And drive-thru workers adore him--a few have even reached out to pet him as he leans as far out the car window as his leash will allow. I especially like taking him through drive-thrus--that can't be a very exciting job, and an unexpected visit from a goofy boy like Sam puts a smile on their face. I know if our roles were reversed, it'd certainly brighten my day.

Sniffing at a passerby outside the window

This is one of my favorite things about Sam. He doesn't even have to try, he just makes people happy. He comes into a room--even if it is to steal your socks--and you can't help but smile. I'd love for him to be a therapy dog once he settles down a bit from his puppyhood. It'd just be plain selfish to keep all the joy he has to offer to myself.

The Celebrated Jumping Dog of Duval County

Sam has been a jumper from day one.

First jump caught on camera

And not the reaching-up-and-putting-paws-on-you half-jump. No, that's for sissies. Sam jumps with all four feet in the air, launching his prodigious bulk skyward and a stunning velocity.

Early jumping

He runs and launches himself and Dad and me, flinging himself into our sides with reckless abandon, not caring where his inertia takes him, only concerned with making a tackle.

Completely airborne

He lunges over fences after me, jumps up into barbecue grills, flies into the pool. I wouldn't be surprised if the vet took an X-ray and found metal springs (the kind those Tempur-pedic commercials are always bashing) instead of femurs. The dog is an aerial menace.

Today and yesterday, Sam's jumping seems to have taken a sinister turn. I swear he's trying to do me in. Yesterday I was rollerblading down the driveway on my way out to the street, and Sam launched himself at me, completely airborne. Out of self-preservation I threw out my hands to block his tackle, and he ended up pushed backward on the ground and I ended up pushed backward on my butt.

An approximation of what I saw flying at me (but with less bubbles)

Today, Sam's tried to kill me twice. First was in the pool, where Sam is usually a good jumper from the steps, but will not jump in from the side without a lot of barking and pacing first to psych himself up. I threw his water toy out of the pool so he'd get out and I could swim out to the middle safely. Halfway to his toy, Sam heard me push off, pulled an abrupt about-face, and catapulted his 65-lb self a good ten feet across the pool to land straight on my head. Luckily I saw him coming--and talk about your life flashing before your eyes, seeing this giant airborne Lab with his ears like plane wings and his bear paws outstretched--and I turned and ducked so he didn't break my neck.

This is terrifying when YOU are the target

Fast forward a few hours to Sam's evening walk. Usually we walk and jog around the neighborhood, and then on the way back, I let him loose once we get to our neighbor's fence so he can run along it with Zoe, the boxer next door. Today other people were walking nearby, so I didn't want to let Sam loose in case he switched his attention from Zoe and greeted the other walkers without the restraint of a leash. Evidently Sam didn't get this memo, however, and out of nowhere hurled himself across the ditch toward Zoe's fence. The force of it yanked my arm out and I dropped the leash and stumbled to the side, while Sam, whose trajectory had encountered the unexpected resistance of my shoulder socket, performed an interesting sort of double-axel and landed in the middle of the ditch.

There's no lasting damage to either of us, but this jumping business has got to stop. Sam's getting too big to continue to jump with such recklessness. I'm trying to channel it into dockdiving, since I'm fairly certain Sam would be awesome at it and have a blast doing so, but as of now, I'm initiating a blanket ban on jumping. Sorry Sam.