I want a (well-trained) dog

I think Nemo sees dead people. Or at least he saw something, that I didn't see, in the same spot in the woods, on two different occasions, that sent him skidding around, yelping, and then afraid to walk back to the house without being leashed, with his tail between his legs.

What is that about?

I've never seen anything like it. It's like he became another dog. I was alone with him the first time, and the second time, a couple of weeks later, we were out there with my folks and Gavin. At one point he was so scared my mom said, "he doesn't want to walk." He just sat down, on top of his tail, and looked pathetically at us. He's too big to carry, so we sort of had to distract him with sticks, and Gavin had to hold onto his harness. Even when we got back to the house, and went through the whole towel-drying ritual, he was still tail between his legs. Then it wore off. I don't get it. I guess I never will. But I was scared to go through that patch for a day or two. I'm over it now.

Nemo gets at least half an hour in the woods and fields near our house on most morning--whenever we're not in the city. Two Sundays back, be noticed a little critter of some sort (I suspect it was a mole) and went furiously digging after it. Gavin tried to dissuade him, but I let it go, thinking it's one of the reasons we let him romp out there in the first place. He romped for another half an hour, but then was sort of subdued when we came back, and then I noticed his nail--the soft part under the hard part you trim--was split on his left paw, and there was wood and splintery stuff stuck in there.

A vet visit and a bunch of antibiotics later, it seems to be healing nicely, which is a great alternative to having to put him under and cut the whole thing off.

I did sedate him before the vet this time, though he did fine without it last time, at our new vet in Mt Laurel, but I don't think it kicked in until later, when he had what seemed like a bad reaction to that paired with the narcotic they gave him for pain. Poor guy. His sad face has looked even sadder than usual. All he could do was lie there in a ball with his eyes open and whine.

So he hasn't run in the woods in 11 days and is worse for the (lack of) wear. The other day I came home from a meeting to find the plastic jar of peanut butter I've been using to give him his meds on the floor, cover off, almost empty. I hope he had a stomach ache, but I know he's just pent up and bored.

The snow and ice and slush doesn't help. It's been bleeding the past two mornings. A couple of people have asked me if I should wrap it, and maybe I should, although the vet didn't seem to think so, and I think all his licking is going it some good. One friend told me they used to put honey mixed with cayenne pepper on a cat's cast to stop him from licking it. I wonder, is it worse to have a sore paw, or a honey-covered mess?

Miracle of miracles, he let me trim that claw this morning. Further evidence he actually does trust me. People who don't see us all the time have pointed out the difference they see in this regard, but it still knocks my socks off. We're back to the dremmeling very soon, though.