My mistake

Yesterday, we waited and waited and waited for the internet repair technician to arrive for his 8AM appointment. His arrival time? 4:30 PM. And, to top it off, our internet was working perfectly when he arrived so he could do nothing. He did suggest, however, that a neighbor using a cordless device at a 900 MHz frequency (like a cordless phone, a baby monitor, cordless headphones) could easily completely knock out our internet. That's probably the problem but tracking down a seemingly benign device like that might be impossible.

The backyard birds waited along with me. My favorite, the pygmy nuthatch hid from the snow under pine boughs. Apparently, on very cold nights, hordes of these tiny birds huddle in sheltered places, like tree cavities and bird nest boxes. That's a wonderful vision.

On a neighboring tree, a Hairy Woodpecker looked hulking by comparison to the nuthatch.

When the Labraduo and I finally headed out for our afternoon hike, it was late and dusky although the new coat of snow brightened the world.

As we did a little bit of training, R gave me a heart-melting look. He seemed to say, please, please, can't we run? Yes, but after training.

This morning, to make up for our very brief foray last evening, the Duo and I were out snowbiking at the crack of dawn and watched the sunrise. The tranquil rest just before sunrise has become my most treasured instant of the day.

The Duo enjoyed it as well, as they sampled the breeze for interesting scents.

The dramatic pose... Um, actually, R was ready to bolt and play rather than stand around. That paw up was preparation for his exit!

We circled almost the entire trail network. It was perfect animal tracking snow yet I saw ONLY coyote tracks. I'm beginning to believe that many animals evacuate our forest and head to lower elevations or south-facing slopes when winter weather takes hold.

This is my first winter of having a number of wildlife cameras spread out in the forest. In places where multiple animals pass a camera per night during the spring, summer, and fall, I haven't captured a single animal in months. The coyotes are the only regulars, and I'm thinking that I should move a couple of cameras to their usual routes and learn more about their pack dynamics.

A coyote passes through our clearing every single night at almost the same time. Often, he doesn't stop under the birdfeeders. He just trots on through. We must be on his regular route.

After rolling around the entire trail network, I brought the Duo home, planning to feed them a quick breakfast and head out for a solo ride. In my hurry, I made a big mistake. I gave R's food to K and vice-versa. In most packs, this mistake would be no big deal. With K, it might be a very big deal. She has chronic pancreatitis that we've had under control for a couple of years now through very strictly controlling her diet. She eats special low protein and lowfat food to ward off pancreatitis.

I had a temper tantrum when I realized my mistake. I considered inducing vomiting in K (the vet wasn't open yet). But, before taking that drastic action (which can go awry), I went and re-read the nutritional data on R's food. I decided that it wasn't *that* bad for K. It's venison and sweet potato. It contains more protein than she should eat but the fat content isn't off the charts. So, I decided to watch and wait, hoping that K's system can handle it.

In the meantime, I went out for an intense bike ride, flogging myself to exhaustion because I was so angry about the fact that I might have hurt K. The vets have warned me that pancreatitis, especially the third or fourth bout of it, can be fatal - that's why I was so upset. The trails that I rode my snowbike on were pretty but I barely noticed. I just pedaled my anger out into the snow.

I arrived home and sprinted into the house to find K snoozing just like normal and obviously puzzled by why I was looking at her so carefully. So far, she still seems absolutely fine. My fingers are crossed.

R doesn't know that there's anything to be worried about. He just knows that, by some stroke of luck, he ate the fancy home-cooked breakfast that we made for K. He's sleeping like an angel.