Monday, March 5, 2012

Shermaninja

Jake, the new Treeing Walker Coonhound adoptee, had been doing very well with his horse acclimation, keeping a safe, pleasant distance from the horses as we moved them around the farm for turnout and back in again.  He looked quite handsome, trotting along proudly with his equine friends.  The horses adapted to him quite well, also, and I was secretly ecstatic about this-- Jake could be the desensitizing influence to accustom Sherman to what, maybe, possibly, in some far-off future, could be his winter sport-- riding to hounds!  The long, lanky tri-color Coonhound bears a great resemblance to the Foxhounds that lead the field.

It was all going wonderfully until last Tuesday.

Jake got a little sassy, and a little too curious, and elected to trot up behind Sherman and sniff a hock.  Sherman, very calmly and matter-of-factly, suggested that no, you don't and swatted him away.  It was a gentle swat, not a full-on kick, or I'm sure the hound would be dead this week.  To the contrary, Jake came away without a scuff, a scrape, a swelling, or a bruise to anything besides his ego and equine confidence.  He came out fine, if humbled.

What did not come out fine was the electronic collar that keeps him contained inside the invisible fence.  Somehow that wily, handy, fleet-of-foot Sherman managed to just peg the 2" wide radio receiver box on the collar, deftly smashing it apart, like so:


Hiiii-YA!  One swift, light kick to the right spot, and we're $160 poorer to replace our knock-off collar. 

Thanks, Sherm.  You've got mad skills.  Expensive mad skills.  At least the hound made it out okay.  So much for desensitizing...

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