SO LONG SAMMI

 

                                    BY BILL JUNEAU

                      A few days ago, Chrissy and I said goodbye to our little dog, SammiSmith, who was a  key figure  of our household for the past 15 years, and nine months.  

                      She is missed almost beyond description.  She was well known to our family with children, and six grandchildren and friends and associates and visitors. Everyone knew and bid hello to the little Cairn terrier, wheaton in color, and eager to make acquaintances.  The little right paw would go up quickly as she would greet, and respond to the command of "paw" or "shake hands."

                      Sammi actually told us that she loved her house and her family, but that the time had come and she needed to go. Maybe the story of the famous "Rainbow Bridge" is a true one, and so we can hope that she has landed there and for all time will be  partaking of the warm sunshine and the green grass and the pure cold water for her drinks. 

                              

                                         Samm at left

                      When Billy Graham was around, he once was asked about the hereafter and if our dogs will be there too.  Billy said that the Lord has promised an eternity with him and a complete happiness that will be forever.  And so, opined Billy, if unfettered happiness requires the presence of a beloved pet. well then the Lord will see to it that the pet is there too.  

                       Sammi came to our home as an eight week old pup when we were living in Parkland, Florida. We named her "Sammismith" after  country and western singer, Sammi Smith, whose songs at the time were popular. Suffice it to say that Sammi  quickly nosed her way into our hearts as she sniffed and hunted frogs and guarded her premises. She developed a big vocabulary, but at times she could be stubborn when a call from us got in the way of sniffing or chasing the small lizards known as geckos. 

                       When Sammi was 13, she had some dental problems and lost all teeth but her four front canines, two on bottom jaw and two on top.   We worried, but Sammi quickly adapted to the situation, and soon she continued eating with her voracious appetite.  Meals were a delight to her and she actually would bounce her front paws up and down as she saw the food dish was on its way.  Treats?  She was always ready to have one, and knew how to beg and ask when the moment required it. 

                        We moved from Florida to Illinois in 2018 and Sammi and a sister named Wendy handled it well.  She certainly missed chasing the lizards and small critters in Florida, but otherwise was out there barking at the birds and squirrels, possums, deer and raccoons if they dared show their faces in or near our fenced-in rear yard.

                         The past year was difficult for Sammi as she contended with a tumor on her abdomen which grew to an enormous size. It got in the way of her walking and we fitted her with a girdle type jacket which would hold the tumor up.  But Sammi handled it well and continued to demand that she be allowed to chase her ball, in exchange for treats,  and for frequent walks on leash through our neighborhood.  

                         We knew that Sammi's days were numbered and that she would have to leave us, and we figured--and we were right--she would let us know that it was time for her to leave;  She thanked us for everything and we hugged her and said goodbye.

                         The following is a short poem which was sent to Chrissy and me after news of Sammi's passing was posted on the internet: 

                        " I was just a pup when we met, and I loved you from the start. You picked me up and took me home and placed me in your heart. 

                          Good times we had together, we shared all life could throw; but years passed all too quickly, and my time has come to go.

                           I know how much you miss me, and I know your heart is sore. I see the tears that fall when I'm not waiting at the door. 

                           You always did the best for me; your love was plain to see. For even if it broke your heart, you set my spirit free. 

                            So please be brave without me, one day we'll meet once more; For when you're called to heaven, I'll be waiting at the door

                                                  xxx

                                                 

THE INCREDIBLE CAIRN TERRIER

 

                                     "There's a time to nap 
                                          and a time to play.
                                       And its all a part of
                                          the Cairn's day." 
                                                           F.B.
                        By Florida Bill                           
       
                   Why does watching a dog be a dog fill one with so much happiness and relaxation?
                    There is an old Missouri lawyer who has observed that in this selfish world, man has one absolutely unselfish friend who never deserts. And that friend has four legs.  And of course for me, I am speaking of the famous hunter from the Scottish Isles, the Cairn Terrier.                     
                         The Cairn is a native of Scotland, and its presence can be traced back to the commonwealth for hundreds of years.  Of course, the dog itself, part of the family of wolves, is said to have been prancing about the earth for thousands of years. In the cave man era, sketches of dogs have been discerned by archaeologists and geologists on the walls of caverns. The book of Genesis tells us of the creation of man and of all life, so that for sure is when the Cairn or its forefathers made their initial appearance on Planet Earth.  
                       The Cairn is a remarkable creature, an ineffable canine, you might say.  While all dogs are special in their way, it is the inquisitive Cairn which has captured our affection and approbation above all of the other four-footed friends. It gained great status from the 1939 movie, "The Wizard of Oz."  That film  was the best picture of that year and I think it won because of a black Cairn named "Toto," with Judy Garland as a part of the supporting cast.                          
                      Generally, the Cairn weighs in at around 12-16 pounds, black, brindle or wheaten in color.   They have been used, and still are I am told, by Scottish farmers and developers to root out any mice and other small critters who are unwelcome in the Scottish mounds known as cairns.  So if a Cairn terrier smells or spots a mouse or a mole; a palmetto bug or a lizard,  or any other small critter hanging about the rock and earth piles, they are toast.   The terrier will nose about the hidden passageways in the cairns and sometimes below earth for these intruders and when they find them, it is goodbye to the unwelcome critter, and a special conquest for the happy Cairn. 
                      And of course they've carried this special skill with them through the ages.  
                      Cairns are affectionate, even cuddly on occasions, but generally are not given to backing away, even when the smart thing would be to do so.  Such is the case in Florida with the cursed Bufo toad, an ugly dude that can get as big as a dessert plate.  The toad is not uncommon as it hops about the mud and muck and grass grabbing bugs and showing up most frequently after rain and when the air is muggy.  But when a Cairn spots one, he strikes and the toad exudes a residue which is poisonous to dogs.  So, if your dog nails a Bufo,  wash his mouth out with a rag  and hustle him off to the vet for a check up and treatment if necessary. Don't use a hose on his mouth as that can push the poison down his gullet, aggravating the situation. 
                     But in any case, little critters beware.  I remember when our male Cairn, Andrew, spotted a black garter snake slithering about our yard.  He pounced immediately, grabbed that fellow with powerful teeth and shook him so frantically that the snake gave up and left this world.  Andrew pranced about with the prize in his mouth for a bit, to the horror of my wife, Christine, before finally abandoning the limp carcass.
                   Have you ever wondered just what is tumbling about in the head of your four-footed pal who shares your home with you and your family?  He does not like it if you blow in his face, but he cannot wait to get his head out the window of the family auto.  And he always seems to know when there is a storm headed our way.
                     Whether or not they think, that is a question to which I have seen no definitive answer. But then, what is the definition of "think?"  Is it knowing what time the food bowl is supposed to hit the floor? Is it developing a vocabulary of words like "outside," and "suppertime," and "ball?" Is it learning to roll over, or sit up or getting excited when the leash comes out? Dog owners know the answer to that age old question and some even swear they can see the wheels turning in their dogs' heads as they calculate the best way to retrieve a toy that rolled out of reach.
                    Beware of the canine critics who believe that the affection and respect dog lovers show for their pets is way over the top.  They are just animals, pure and simple, they say; no big deal.  No ego; no feelings; no brain and no soul.  To that I say wrong, wrong, wrong and wrong again. As to a soul, at least two Popes have said that they will be in heaven with us.  But then,  as others have opined, "If dogs are not in heaven--then it isn't really heaven."
                     I say there is plenty in that little furry head,  but to really know, or kinda know, you will need to become familiar with bark, tail, ear, and smell language. You may be bilingual or trilingual in man's world,  but in canine circles, it is the body language of your fur-headed friend that is important in communicating.    

                     There are numerous books dealing with the minds of our four-footed friends, who hang around our homes and who gladly put up with us as the source of their next meal and treat.  For sure, even the smallest treat will elicit appreciation and satisfaction from our pets, who, let's admit it, tend to be a bit "food-centric." Perhaps it is a hangover from their ancestors' need to survive. When we dog parents go out to eat, a doggie bag is routine, yet essential, and there is super appreciation awaiting our return home.                 
                     There is no doubt cairns--and most breeds of dog--speak plenty. Ours certainly do more than their share of dog talking, otherwise known as nonstop yapping.  But when it comes to true communication, there is no doubt in any dog lover's mind that they can get their point across. Look at police and service dogs.

                   Dogs certainly have a memory. Our  smaller lady, Sammi, is dedicated to the tennis ball, and has incredible fascination and affection for that lime green bouncer.  She sets it down when she hits the hay for the night rest, but it is her first thought in the morning, after her breakfast, and backyard business, that is.  One of our dogs would from time to time bury a bone alongside a tree in the yard.  When she decided she wanted it, even a couple of days later, she would head to the burial grounds, retrieve her treasure and begin working it over.  Memory?  For sure.  Much more than instinct here. 
                     I have been fascinated with the book, "How to Speak to a Dog" by the outstanding professor of psychology, Stanley Coren. Its great reading, and if you like your Cairn, or any dog, take a look. 

                     All in all, the furry Cairn with that inquisitie and loving look is a treasure we are blessed to have with us. 
                                                 

                                             xxx  

                          









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THE INCREDIBLE CAIRN NOSE

 

                                        BY BILL JUNEAU 

                                          Our dogs are incredible Cairn terriers who like nothing better than to take a walk and check out the terrain.  Their noses are an incomparable machine and they go to work, sorting out the various smells and odors.  Sometimes, the fouler, the better; so foul, in fact, that rolling in it is a compulsion that only a leash can forestall.  One dog aficionado has noted that canines have a "bizarre obsession with a pile of poo."
                                             They enjoy sniffing the earth and foreign objects and I wonder what is so interesting to them?  As to us humans, we pick up a scent here and there.  Gasoline or the pleasant aroma of a bakery can catch our attention.  But the noses of our four-footed friends can really put us to shame when it comes to picking up a wafting aroma or a down-in-the-ground miasma.   Some experts put the ratio at about 100,000 to one in terms of superior canine sniffing power.  Others say a million to one is more like it.          
              

                              When dogs sniff something, they are not just registering a smell, they get an entire story.  Sometimes it is so good that they will literally tremble in excitement as they sniff every molecule. 
                             What they are smelling is pheromone (a chemical substance)  which is not only found in the urine and fecal deposits, but also on skin and fur.  From this they can tell a lot about another dog, including if they are male or female, what they ate, where they have been, what they have touched, if they are ready to mate, if they have recently given birth, or had a false pregnancy, and what mood they are in.
                                              Dr. Stanley Coren, a professor of psychology and a prize winning dog trainer and authority on dog intelligence, is pretty much the final word for me when it comes to scoping out what our friendly canines can do. He explains that for dogs and certainly for our Cairns, sniffing is like reading the headlines in a newspaper.  Dog urine is like a gossip column and the sniffers are able to pick up all kinds of hot info.  Could be that some young lady barker is in heat or that other virile newcomers are hanging around?                        
                                               How sensitive is that dog nose?  In one test, it has been reported that a single mouse was placed in a one-acre field and it took a few beagles less than a minute to nail the tiny rodent. Now that is smelling.  Interestingly, Coren notes that Scottish terriers are not at the top of the list when it comes to tracking but they can certainly hold their own.
                                                Dogs can detect some odors in parts per trillion, dog scientists say. The federal government often speaks in trillions of dollars so we know that is a mighty big number. In her book, "Inside of a Dog," Alexandra Horowitz, a dog-cognition researcher, has written that where a coffee drinker might notice the addition of teaspoon of sugar to his brew, a dog could detect a teaspoon of sugar in a million gallons of water. Another dog expert has reported that the "foodaholic" canine is able to catch a whiff of one rotten apple in two million barrels.                                                                                              The really great sniffers are a familiar sight at airports.  They are  trained to spot illegal substances, including explosives, in the air, on persons or in luggage.  Loyal noses go side by side with our soldiers and with policemen sniffing and warning of danger in one way or another. And dogs have been known to identify the beginning of diseases when no equipment in the hands of a physician can find anything amiss and they are often seen at the sites of disasters helping to find corpses. How could they not have our respect and admiration--and maybe a little envy from a species unable to sniff out all but the most obvious odors?
                                                   Maybe the Cairn's nose won't match up to a Beagle or some other police dogs or trackers,  but their noses are still a quivering hot spot and they know when there is food in the air or a treat in a pocket.  Those ears go up and the tail stands tall.  The Cairn's sense of smell is not a million times better than ours, maybe only a couple hundred thousand times as good. 
                                                   So what about that Cairn nose in our house?  Naturally, a good long walk is the place where  Sammi Smith  and Wendy will glean information from the ground, hydrants, telephone poles, even a blade of grass. But inside our home, we add another sniffing opportunity:  we occasionally play the game "where is it?"  In that game we give our dogs a whiff of a treat, and then close them off while we carefully hide the treasures.  We pick the room, but don't tell them, we just leave all doors open.  When they get the command, 'Where is it" they take off and they do not stop until the treat is gobbled down.  The hunt is frantic, and usually over in just a few minutes.  
                                                 Do you think that your welcoming Cairn can detect with his nose any fear or sadness or anxiety?  Researchers say that when you are down, your four-footed buddy will know.  Such human conditions are accompanied by increased heart rate and blood flow which sends tell-tale chemicals to the skin surface.  A smile might convince some associates that you are at the top of your game, but you won't fool your best friend and his handsome black nose as he extends his greeting.    
                                                 We love to see examples of our cairns' sensitive noses, but sniffing and hunting are just part of their canine charms. They can amuse in a million ways--chasing a tennis ball to the point of exhaustion, drooling over the same old boring kibble day after day, snuggling up to us on the couch in the evening. But the best part of having a dog is the lifetime of companionship they provide. I cannot imagine a home without a dog.  For me, I'll take the Cairn Terrier with the inquisitive look and the carrot tail.  Do you agree?  

RAINBOW BRIDGE, AND WE'LL MEET AGAIN

 

                         By Bill Juneau

                              When you come to that sad and distressing moment when you must bid goodbye to your dog, remember that the farewell may not be forever.  There is some very good authority telling us that there will be a happy reunion with that faithful little fur head at the glorious Rainbow Bridge, gateway to Heaven.                                          The grief at losing that special pet is profound, almost indescribable.  In some ways it is similar to the sadness suffered at the loss of a human friend or relative; but different since we have always believed that we will be reunited with them in the afterlife. 
                               So what is the deal with our four-footed friends.  Is it true that all dogs go to heaven?  Mark Twain has noted that "Heaven goes by favor; If it went by merit, you would stay out and your dog would go in."   But that only begs the question. 
                                              Along that same line, a prominent European writer has noted that dogs are our link to paradise.  "They don't know evil or jealousy or discontent.  To sit with a dog on a hillside on a glorious afternoon is to be back in Eden where doing nothing was not boring --it was peace."                

                               Not too long ago, America was blessed with a visit from Pope Francis.  We heard his voice calling for peace in the world and for love and respect for all men.  But in another earlier message, the Pontiff observed that our four-footed friends are not lost forever and that "Paradise is open to all of God's creatures."   Really good news for us dog people.

                              Actually,  Francis is not the only Pontiff who has said that beloved pets do not make a permanent departure.   Some years ago, Pope Paul VI, while consoling a broken-hearted little boy whose pet had died, told the youngster that he would again see his dog in the "eternity of Christ."  His words were very comforting to the boy;  and yes, those words resonate in the same way with us old timers whose time on this earth is coming to an end. We are like our dogs, "short timers."  And it is good to know that religious experts confirm our long-held belief that we will be reunited with every dog we've ever had when that time comes.   

                            Will Rogers, a man who loved his furry companions, would be pleased too.   This great humorist once said that "if there are no dogs in heaven, then, when I die,  I want to go where they went."  Well with the popes and others passing on the question, it is looking pretty good.  They will be there and we'll see them so long as we make it there too.   

                             There are hundreds of millions of dog owners in the world and more frequently than not, a special steely bond develops between the canine and his owner.  There are those who do not or have never owned a dog, and perhaps regard the relationship as mythical rather than mystical.  But I know I am right; the relationship is special--ask any pet owner. 

                              I remember when I was a soldier in Korea, I owned a small terrier-type pooch named Maggie and she was with me most hours of virtually every day of  my 16-months in that far-away country.  When I walked guard duty with a rifle, Maggie was there and when I was in the mess hall she waited outside by the door; and at bedtime, my cot and sleeping bag were her bed too.  On our small compound in Ouijongbu, soldiers with their dogs were quite common and unrestricted on many posts in this land where America had gone to defend. 

                             Sadly, when I said goodbye to Korea, I had to say farewell also to Maggie. I can still see her to this day,  sitting by the side of a road, ears up, watching and alert as our truck pulled away.  I loved that little lady, and I am hoping that Maggie will be around to greet me at that famous bridge beyond the stars.  
                            Occasionally, I think back about our four-footed friends and their special place in life and I am reminded of the words of an old Missouri lawyer who, reflecting on our furry companions, observed that "the one absolutely unselfish friend that a man can have in this selfish world, the one that never deserts him and the one that never proves ungrateful or treacherous . . . is his dog."  

                           To dog aficionados, and maybe to Pope Francis himself, there is the story of the  "Rainbow Bridge."  Accordingly, when a pet dies, it goes to a meadow and is restored to perfect health, and spends its days running and playing with other dogs, with plenty of fresh food and water. The only thing that is not perfect is that he misses his owner left behind on earth.  When the owner dies, he approaches the meadow and it is at that moment that his pet sees him and their eyes meet.  Excited, the pet runs to the owner's arms licking his face in joy, and side by side they cross the Rainbow Bridge together into heaven, never again to be separated.

                          Today, my wife, Chrissy and I have two dogs,  Cairn Terriers by breed, each weighing about 15 pounds.  They look like the dog, Toto, in the movie The Wizard of Oz.  Sammi is wheaten-colored and Wendy is Black. They are non-stop yappers and never saw a bird or leaf that did not require their comment; the arrival of the pool man or the dry cleaner is enough to provoke a deafening frenzy.  Yet, we have bonded with them in a big way, and it is impossible to imagine life without them.  But a dog's life is short, and we have had other dogs before them, all of whom became special and unforgettable. We are happy about Pope Francis's views on the matter.        

                         One final word on dogs and the hereafter: Elizabeth Marshall Thomas, author of "The Secret Life of Dogs," was asked in an interview if she believed that all dogs go to heaven. Her answer was logic at its best: "If there are no dogs there, it is not heaven."

The Hunting Cairn

   

 

                                                         BY BILL JUNEAU                                     

                                                                  Tip your hat to the hunter extraordinaire: the Cairn terrier. The little dog with the big personality. 

                                              The feisty Cairn, almost always  wheaten or black in color, though maybe a blend leaning slightly to toward rouge, is a descendant of a wolf, believe it or not, and gained its fame and reputation as an aggressive hunter in the fields and underground tunnels of beautiful Scotland. Some say it was in the Isle of Skye.   They were commissioned to examine rocky piles known to farmers as cairns and to rid them of any interlopers such as mice, rats, snakes, rabbits or squirrels or any other unwelcome critter hanging around.
                                              In fact, it was said these hunters would "go to ground," in search of such critters, and there are still competitions where terriers are sent into tunnels with caged rats and timed on how quickly they reach the prey and for how long they perform: barking, baying, scratching or staring intensely.  
                                          With a determined nature and guided by a nose which can always detect a foreign critter hiding where he does not belong, the sturdy Cairn would do his work and provide for the farmer, his friend and mentor, a rock pile as free and as sterile as a rock pile can be.  Unwelcome visitors are dispatched by the Cairns by grabbing them by the neck and delivering some mighty shakes. 
                                                In America and much of the world, the tough little Cairn has become a respected and beloved pet in tens of thousands of homes. They love their owners and the kids and other dogs--well, most of the time, when it comes to other canines.  They do a  good deal of barking and they will sound off mightily at footsteps, even those dropped by a squirrel or bunny. Some owners will laughingly say their Cairns bark at the sound of a leaf dropping.
                                                They are powerful and dominating when it comes to rodents and the unlikeable critters are never too much for the determined Cairn. According to canine expert Stanley Coren, he learned of a terrier named Tiny who was said to have polished off some 5,000 rats in his lifetime.  That's dedication. 
                                                 Recently, I saw on a social media site an inquiry and concern from a Cairn "mom" that her pet was an overly aggressive hunter of little critters, and that perhaps that was a negative quality which her Cairn possessed.  Somewhat distressed, she invited comments from other owners on what she perceived as an unwelcome trait which she was not fond of.
                                                  The answer is that the instinct to hunt is in the canine genes. For me, also a Cairn booster, I look upon their talent to ferret out the intruder with admiration--a Cairn doing what a Cairn was meant to do. 
                                                   Not too long ago, while living in sunny Florida, our male, Andy, a handsome, wheaten colored Cairn weighing in at about 16 pounds, left our back door and raced to the far end of our fenced one-acre yard. He seemed to be on a mission.  Minutes later I saw him furiously shaking a black "rope" in his mouth.  It wasn't a rope, it was a black garter snake about three feet long.  Most interesting was that Andy seemed to know that the alien was there. He made quick work of the intruder.   How?  What tipped Andy off?  
                                                    Just a couple of days ago, our 7-year-old black Cairn, Wendy, declined to answer our whistle and call which was completely unlike her while inside our home in South Florida. We went to look for her and found her staring at a closed closet door.  It was the unmistakable Cairn "death stare," with her nose inches from the tiny slit under the door. No question, but there had to be something inside the closet where we have boxes stored with Xmas decorations and other items and some luggage.  We were hoping that a mouse had not gotten into the house. 
                                                  Opening the door, Wendy shot in without hesitation. She nosed around items piled on the floor and darted under the shelf housing the air conditioner. Presto, within seconds, she exploded out with a large Palmetto bug--an unpleasant fact of life in Florida--in her mouth, zoomed to another corner of the house, and then dropped the lifeless meddler onto the floor. Thanks, Wendy.  We cleaned up the remains, and Wendy then went about her business. 
                                                Niki, another female cairn of ours, would suddenly stake out a pantry or closet and we knew it was time to buy a mouse trap. 
                                                  The search by the young and middle aged Cairn is never ending.  Maybe age will slow them down, but just a little.  The Cairn does not discern which intruder might be a more or less welcome addition to the terrain. They are all prey.                                                          In Florida, and perhaps elsewhere where there is an abundance of sun and showers, we need to keep an eye on the inquisitive Cairn lest in his instinct to hunt, he comes upon the dreaded Bufo toad, which will react to danger by exuding a substance on its skin which is poisonous to dogs and can even be fatal. When the Cairn sees the  toad, he attacks and most large toads cannot move fast enough to escape.  If it happens, which it has to us three times, we wipe out the inside of the dog's mouth with a wet rag and then rush the little fur head to the vet for immediate treatment, which will save the dog if the action is timely enough. Anyway, be on guard against these dog menaces.  Bufos are ugly looking dudes whose size can match a dessert plate. 
                                                Is the Cairn a dedicated hunter?  You bet.  Absolutely.  We sometimes fear ours got an overabundance of terrier genes.  So, what is it about an unwelcome  critter which draws their attention?  What do they hear?  What do they smell?                                                     The dog's nose is, according to some experts, about a million times more sensitive than man's ability to smell. In one experiment I read about, a tiny mouse was placed in the center of a one acre field of grass, and the dog, (must have been a Cairn) was released to hunt.  Within minutes, the proud dog returned, mouse in tow. That was all nose.  It was the hunter, home from the hills. 
                                                 The Cairn terrier has a tradition to uphold.  Hunting is what he does and what he has always done. His people and the unconditional love which he bestows upon his owners of course comes first.  But intruders and aliens are definitely not welcome in Cairn territory.   So do not be concerned.  Enjoy your Cairn.  There is no other dog like yours in the world!!!!                                                    
                                              XXX
                                             

  

CAIRN'S UNCONDITIONAL LOVE

                                                       By BILL JUNEAU 

                                                               Let's be honest; there is something about dogs which is very special, and that awesome quality strikes a chord deep within certain humans, who become known as "dog people." This is pretty much a lifelong affliction for those who succumb to it. 
                                      And inside this phenomenal canine kingdom is the incredible Cairn terrier, the little guy with the huge personality whose ancestors hailed from the Isle of Skye in Scotland. Characteristics that apply to the average canine seem to apply to the Cairn terrier tenfold.
                                           With a thirst for adventure and his carrot tail pointing toward the sky, the Cairn is a hunter extraordinaire; a "ratter" with a nose ten thousand times more sensitive than his human friends and mentors.  He is very smart yet at times he "comes" at his own pace depending on what's in it for him.  Some say the Cairn, while affectionate, marches to the beat of his own drum, although a treat will usually raise the volume. As they always say at Westminster, the big dog show: "It's a terriers' world; they just let us live in it." This is especially true of our Cairn friends.
                                           Some dog owners think, "If only dogs could talk." Well, they do.  Think of that loquacious relative who downs a few too many sherries at Thanksgiving and chews your ear off between courses: now look at your cairn standing by the window barking at falling leaves. Some similarities, you think?
                                           Yet we probably don't even realize the extent of the average dog's vocabulary. (Cairns in particular are considered very "vocal.") There is no doubt that certain words, like walk, treat and suppertime, are in their dictionary.  The word "no" is perhaps more debatable. 
                                           Delivering their message is accomplished  through their ears, tail and body language. Yes, the "bark"-- now there is communication worthy of a good translator.  Noisy--yes, at times it can make you think about the dreaded shake-can or squirt gun as a remedy. 
                                            Canine psychologists have studied "dog talk" for a good while and have determined that they communicate about three main topics:  emotional states, social relations and the expression of wants and desires.  Barking is in different pitches and tones, so listen carefully, quips Dr. Stanley Coren, a professor of psychology---a man who  knows "dog talk." 

                                             The  professor, who is the author of the book, "The Intelligence of Dogs,"  has done a good deal of research in carving out the interpretations of man's best friends. For example, the continuous rapid barking at mid range pitch translates into specific canine rhetoric:  "Call the pack.  There is a potential problem.  Someone is coming into our territory." Our cairns, in particular, are especially good at alerting us to the arrival of the pool service...the handyman, the dry cleaner, the lawn guy. 
                                             But then, one or two sharp, short barks, at mid range pitch, is more welcoming, the doggie version of "Hello there."  But change the pitch slightly upward, says Dr. Coren, and you have. "What's this?"  In other words, "Is there a slight movement at the back of the yard?" 
                                              There are all sorts of growls. Some graduate into a bark, and some say, "Beware--back off."  With a lower pitch, the growl/bark sends the warning, "I'm upset and ready to fight."  Dr. Coren also identifies the "undulating growl with high pitch, as "if you come at me, I may fight or I may run." This latter translation probably does not apply to the average terrier, which has no idea how small it is and rarely backs down.
                                               Understanding the language of your dog, and getting your dog to understand you, is a big part of canine ownership.  
                                              Of course there is unspoken communication too. There's that look of pure contentment as your cairn settles in next to you on the couch at night, sprawled out like a contortionist sometimes, which says "I am at peace, all is well."
                                            Many dog owners become especially loyal to a particular  breed. This is usually most common with dogs with a lot of moxie, or, let's admit it, "attitude," like our beloved Cairns.
                                             Perhaps that is part of the magic of the Cairn, be it he or she, black, brindle or wheaten. Ah, just to see him zipping about in his back yard or on the beach; or looking over the trees and bushes, or sniffing (or digging energetically) at the ground.  Is there a busier breed?  How about that moment when your Cairn attacks his squeak toy, resolved to rid that beast of all noise-making ability.  Yes, that is a Cairn being a Cairn.
                                             Do you ever wonder about the memory of a dog?  Does he store something in that busy head and then recall it in subsequent days.  Absolutely, observes Dr. Coren.  And he has some first hand experience from his days with his Cairn, Feldspar, whom he praises for his vocabulary and ability to recall.  Feldspar would always cower and hide upon hearing the word "Bath.  "  Conversely, said Coren, another of his dogs actually raced to the shower room upon hearing that word.  Can your Cairn count?  Try putting three dog cookies in your pocket and then give him only two.                                             .  
                                             In Florida, where we used to live before moving to Sun City the grass and bushes are the home for those little lizards we call gekkos. There are trillions of them.  The search for them is never ending for our Cairns. They will sniff and hunt relentlessly or until something else become more important, like maybe suppertime or a little ball chasing.  
                                             Put it all together and remember how he joins you when you are taking a nap, or accompanies you on that walk.  He is, one writer has said, "the only thing on earth that loves you more than he loves himself." A dog doesn't love us just because we do something for him like feed him food and water; let him sleep with us in bed; comb his fur and take him for a car ride.  He just loves us anyway, and that's what  "unconditional" means.  

                                                -30-

THE HUNTING CAIRN

  

 

                                                         BY BILL JUNEAU                                     

                                                                  Tip your hat to the hunter extraordinaire: the Cairn terrier. The little dog with the big personality. 

                                              The feisty Cairn, almost always  wheaten or black in color, though maybe a blend leaning slightly to toward rouge, is a descendant of a wolf, believe it or not, and gained its fame and reputation as an aggressive hunter in the fields and underground tunnels of beautiful Scotland. Some say it was in the Isle of Skye.   They were commissioned to examine rocky piles known to farmers as cairns and to rid them of any interlopers such as mice, rats, snakes, rabbits or squirrels or any other unwelcome critter hanging around.
                                              In fact, it was said these hunters would "go to ground," in search of such critters, and there are still competitions where terriers are sent into tunnels with caged rats and timed on how quickly they reach the prey and for how long they perform: barking, baying, scratching or staring intensely.  
                                          With a determined nature and guided by a nose which can always detect a foreign critter hiding where he does not belong, the sturdy Cairn would do his work and provide for the farmer, his friend and mentor, a rock pile as free and as sterile as a rock pile can be.  Unwelcome visitors are dispatched by the Cairns by grabbing them by the neck and delivering some mighty shakes. 
                                                In America and much of the world, the tough little Cairn has become a respected and beloved pet in tens of thousands of homes. They love their owners and the kids and other dogs--well, most of the time, when it comes to other canines.  They do a  good deal of barking and they will sound off mightily at footsteps, even those dropped by a squirrel or bunny. Some owners will laughingly say their Cairns bark at the sound of a leaf dropping.
                                                They are powerful and dominating when it comes to rodents and the unlikeable critters are never too much for the determined Cairn. According to canine expert Stanley Coren, he learned of a terrier named Tiny who was said to have polished off some 5,000 rats in his lifetime.  That's dedication. 
                                                 Recently, I saw on a social media site an inquiry and concern from a Cairn "mom" that her pet was an overly aggressive hunter of little critters, and that perhaps that was a negative quality which her Cairn possessed.  Somewhat distressed, she invited comments from other owners on what she perceived as an unwelcome trait which she was not fond of.
                                                  The answer is that the instinct to hunt is in the canine genes. For me, also a Cairn booster, I look upon their talent to ferret out the intruder with admiration--a Cairn doing what a Cairn was meant to do. 
                                                   Not too long ago, while living in sunny Florida, our male, Andy, a handsome, wheaten colored Cairn weighing in at about 16 pounds, left our back door and raced to the far end of our fenced one-acre yard. He seemed to be on a mission.  Minutes later I saw him furiously shaking a black "rope" in his mouth.  It wasn't a rope, it was a black garter snake about three feet long.  Most interesting was that Andy seemed to know that the alien was there. He made quick work of the intruder.   How?  What tipped Andy off?  
                                                    Just a couple of days ago, our 7-year-old black Cairn, Wendy, declined to answer our whistle and call which was completely unlike her while inside our home in South Florida. We went to look for her and found her staring at a closed closet door.  It was the unmistakable Cairn "death stare," with her nose inches from the tiny slit under the door. No question, but there had to be something inside the closet where we have boxes stored with Xmas decorations and other items and some luggage.  We were hoping that a mouse had not gotten into the house. 
                                                  Opening the door, Wendy shot in without hesitation. She nosed around items piled on the floor and darted under the shelf housing the air conditioner. Presto, within seconds, she exploded out with a large Palmetto bug--an unpleasant fact of life in Florida--in her mouth, zoomed to another corner of the house, and then dropped the lifeless meddler onto the floor. Thanks, Wendy.  We cleaned up the remains, and Wendy then went about her business. 
                                                Niki, another female cairn of ours, would suddenly stake out a pantry or closet and we knew it was time to buy a mouse trap. 
                                                  The search by the young and middle aged Cairn is never ending.  Maybe age will slow them down, but just a little.  The cairn does not discern which intruder might be a more or less welcome addition to the terrain. They are all prey.                                                          In Florida, and perhaps elsewhere where there is an abundance of sun and showers, we need to keep an eye on the inquisitive Cairn lest in his instinct to hunt, he comes upon the dreaded Bufo toad, which will react to danger by exuding a substance on its skin which is poisonous to dogs and can even be fatal. When the Cairn sees the  toad, he attacks and most large toads cannot move fast enough to escape.  If it happens, which it has to us three times, we wipe out the inside of the dog's mouth with a wet rag and then rush the little fur head to the vet for immediate treatment, which will save the dog if the action is timely enough. Anyway, be on guard against these dog menaces.  Bufos are ugly looking dudes whose size can match a dessert plate. 
                                                Is the Cairn a dedicated hunter?  You bet.  Absolutely.  We sometimes fear ours got an overabundance of terrier genes.  So, what is it about an unwelcome  critter which draws their attention?  What do they hear?  What do they smell?                                                     The dog's nose is, according to some experts, about a million times more sensitive than man's ability to smell. In one experiment I read about, a tiny mouse was placed in the center of a one acre field of grass, and the dog, (must have been a Cairn) was released to hunt.  Within minutes, the proud dog returned, mouse in tow. That was all nose.  It was the hunter, home from the hills. 
                                                 The Cairn terrier has a tradition to uphold.  Hunting is what he does and what he has always done. His people and the unconditional love which he bestows upon his owners of course comes first.  But intruders and aliens are definitely not welcome in Cairn territory.   So do not be concerned.  Enjoy your Cairn.  There is no other dog like yours in the world!!!!                                                    
                                              XXX