I guess it was raining, or maybe it was misting. The rain fell all over my shoulders and my cap, but it was just a background patter. Reilly and I stopped to check out a small hole in the leaf litter. She has been keeping tabs on it for a while, but yesterday it was dark, raw and wet and nooone was out but us and I thought = this is a walk for HER exercise and if she is excited to dig and sniff in this old hole, that’s okay by me. She was clearly getting a workout as she dug, and I saw her muscles tighten and release as she stopped to thrust her long nose into the tunnel and take a long pull of the scent off the hole. Her legs braced on the soft dirt she had throw out behind her, her head and neck in the soil up to her shoulders. Rain fell on the raised fur of her ruff, she had small specks of dirt on the tips of her guard hairs, on the ends of her ears, and when she emerged to pant and consider her work, a dusty daub of tan on the top of her black velvet snout.
This Reilly is a strong dog in her prime, I noticed not the rain on my head but the movement of her ribcage as she drew in deep draughts from the hole and blew out dust from her nose. I watched my dog, who is not a fan of rain or puddles when she is warm and dry, but resigns herself to the elements once outside, completely ignore the now-pelting rain so bent on her hunt was she. Her waist is lean, her belly tucked up and her coat thickening from summer to winter. She considers the hole from a different angle, then bites at roots and tugs them using her jaws to grip tightly and her whole frame to pull them from the soil making room for her head and claws to pull earth from this new angle and widen the hole.Back to her original approach, she scrapes up a few stones and tucks them behind her, and tries to grip the roof of the tunnel with her mouth.
I have seen this dog dig out nests of meadow voles this way, digging in soil and getting her lower jaw in the hole and grasping the grass and roots above in her mouth and heaving her whole body back and up to pull the roof off and spit it out to open up the hole. The payoff is 3-6 squealing snacks scattering and scurrying in all directions to pounce on, swiftly shake and devour- tiny feet wiggling before they disappear and she seeks the next one rustling away in the grass or squirming in the hole. Standing in the rain with her I wonder if she will get any such jackpot this time. She gnaws at the hard side of the tunnel but the sound is teeth grinding on rock and I shudder. She pauses and rearranges the soil pile behind the hole.
Her tongue is thick and muddy as she pants and stares down, she glances at me and I take a turn to peer in at her work. I realized this is usually the pause where she and Sage would usually change places and he’d dig and sniff and drink the small animal’s scent. Generally Sage is the student, looking on at Rei in excitement and admiration and taking a turn at digging. It almost looks like she is saying “You go in and look and make sure you notice this part…” but he is not here and I am. So go in and admire her deep excavation. I notice though that the tunnel now dives between two large rocks and Rei has probably reached the end.
Good job, Rei, I say, Nice work! but I think this one’s done, girl. She glances at me like the old pro she is, then goes in for a deep sniff. Rei, you gotta leave it now. She scrapes again, but the tunnel is squeezed tight between those stones. She doesn’t feel the rain, taste the dirt, or hear my call, she is focused on the task, and the prey. Or maybe she does feel all those things but they compose the pleasure of the real hunt and the richness of this authentic experience is why she persists where she will give up on some of my contrived prey games with toys and towels and couch cushions, or clunking boxes. Even if she gets a cookie reward for my game, it is enjoyable but if the cookie was warm and squeaky and hurried in erratic panic when discovered, it would be much more thrilling.
I know there will be no payoff here and I notice her claws splayed a bit as she pulls soil back- she seems to stand gingerly on the front paws, but focuses on the hole in the rain. Rei. She flicks an eye up at me and returns her gaze to the rock hole. Rei. Leave it. Can’t, she says. But she must, her claws look pinker than I think they normally are, and the teeth scraping bothers me because her teeth are already quite worn down. I look in the hole, and praise her work one more time, then draw her away with decisive, but not angry words and a steady hand on her collar.
The spell is broken and she looks at me, I offer her a piece of food and she takes it. We walk on away from the hole and now feel the rain dropping harder and the wind roaring and my leash hand freezing. I pet her head and tell her shes a good girl. She realizes she doesnt want to be out in this rain and takes care of her remaining business in short order. She drinks long from a swift stream at the top of the road and then walks up the hill to squat. We turn home and I admire her silently, she trots beside me eager to get inside and dry.
In the kitchen she shakes off mud and water before I can get to her, but I rub her dry with a towel, she stands and appears to enjoy the muscle rub as much as the drying coat. She stands for two towels worth of rubs, and I notice small red drops on the floor. I inspect her paws and find three weeping claws on her front paws, rubbed raw on the sides from digging against the rocks. She seems only now to allow herself the luxury of feeling sore, but she does allow me to gently handle her feet, and I don’t betray her trust by pressing them to open her pads up very much. Her feet are clean, her coat is dry and she is satisfied to have had this work: I allow her to go and she lies on her bed in my studio, I sit by her and rub her side.
