Learning to walk again, in the water treadmill. Note how he either a) walks right up to the front and stands on a little ledge there, so he only has to walk with his back feet; or b) just stands still and glides backwards until he hits the back wall of the treadmill. At this stage he was still walking on tiptoes; he got much better.
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snow dogs
Sometimes we used to take the dogs up logging tracks and let them run around in the snow.
Then we pelted them with snowballs. Nobody ever said we were nice.
What, like you never crumble snowballs into your dog’s mouth?
And yes, it is cold. Trent is just a mutant.
Highly trained tracker dogs.
Basso rests in the cold snow. One of the perks of a built-in fur coat.
What’s that you say? What is this “cold” of which you speak?
You’re all idiots. The truck is lovely and dry. I am the smartest of all.
Are we there yet? Are we there yet?
What’s that over there? Is that the truck? I have to go.
You are all jealous of my cat hat. It has big yellow eyes.
Basso is so consumed with envy he can’t even look at me.
Trent is eyeing up Basso to see if there is enough fur coat there for everyone.
Further up the mountain, where no dogs are allowed, there is copious amounts of snow. As well as children in mohawk hats.
Scout
Scout is a Bernese Mountain Dog, and our first dog. We are using him to practise on so that hopefully any further dogs will turn out better.
Scout is a fairly typical Bernese, and as can be expected, all visitors are greeted with a frantically waving tail and a volley of barks. In fact, Scout considers himself quite the watch dog, although often can’t be bothered to get up to see what he is barking at. He leaves that to his human minions.
Scout must know what you are doing at all times. It’s even better if he can have a paw touching you at all times. When he does this his paw shakes, leading us to think of him as an old-time preacher, proclaiming, “I cast thee OUT, demons! Begone from this host!” As we have never yet been infested by demons, we can only assume his technique works.
Scout also bears the dubious honour of The Most Expensive Bernese Mountain Dog in the World: one morning in 2006 he couldn’t get up. Turns out he had degenerative disc disease, in the spinal disc right above his shoulder blades, meaning he couldn’t move his front legs. He had surgery to fuse the disc (where we are secretly convinced they also gold-plated his spine, such was the cost) and the vets told us most dogs begin walking again in 8 weeks, if they’re ever going to walk again.
For six months, there was no visible improvement at all. Scout had physiotherapy every day and physio/swimming therapy every week, which he completely hated. His front legs remained rigid and the front paws curled under. The back legs showed reflex and he could use them, but only if someone carried his front half. He was far too heavy for me to do this for more than a few metres (even though he lost over 10 kilos) so by “someone”, I mean “Trent”. For six months, Trent took Scout wherever he went, carrying him everywhere, including walk/carrying him around multiple times during the day and night to go to the toilet. Scout whined and complained. Trent never did.
Finally, we thought we saw some movement in his front legs. Soon he could lie on his stomach with his head up off the floor (after being on his side for months). Eventually he was able to stand, then move his foot outward in a step, then very barely walk forward. Nine months after surgery, he could walk around for himself. Not quickly, and not gracefully, but he could finally eat whenever he wanted (which was always; we had to move Basso’s bowl off the floor again) and go to the toilet by himself, and go outside to have a look around whenever he wanted. He returned to his happy, annoying, insomniac self. He finally liked going to physio (after he established they weren’t going to put him in the hated pool). He amazed everyone, including himself.
We had another 18 months of a much slower Scouterdog, but he was just as happy. Scout was sadly put to sleep on 28 December 2007, after a sudden attack of bloat. This was something we could not fix and we could ask no more of him. He was a month short of 10 years old. He did good.
9 years old: November 2007
Trent with Scout and Basso
Sleeping in the grass
Oh hai i can walk now
In the water treadmill – this is how you walk, remember?
NO NO NO NO not the water again NOOOOOOO
STAIRS STAIRS STAIRS MUST REACH STAIRS
Baby elephant walk – back legs good, front legs bad
DO NOT WANT
Scout and Basso share a dog bed
Scout at 7.5 years old – October 2005
The quintessential Bernese pose.
Scout’s favourite place.
Scout at 6 years old – April 2004
For ME ???!!!?!
Mmmm. He is delicious.
Prepare to shake …
Where’s Trent? Is he home yet? I know YOU’RE here, but where’s Trent?
Ah, sleeping. What a great way to spend 10 hours.
Scout and Basso proudly displaying the wasteland they have so painstakingly created out of the back lawn.
Can you close the door on your way out? Thanks.
Scout in 1999 (1.5 years old)