Monday, January 20, 2020

77. Neither snow nor . . .

It’s a bitter 15 degrees Fahrenheit today, but Gus and I barely notice.  Decked out with chemical toe-warmers in my boots, insulated ski pants, a down parka, a nylon and fleece hat, and knitted fingerless mittens over thin gloves, I’m nearly impervious to the elements.  And sporting his shaggy baby-musk-ox winter coat, not to mention his fetching nylon pony blanket, Gus is warm as toast.  And much happier with his paddock footing now that some snow covers the ice that had built up during cycles of thawing and freezing.  He comes to the gate for haltering, but he still tiptoes carefully down the path to the arena.

Two of his favorite fan-club members show up to share some carrots and pat-pats. After a roll and some nice, polite trotting, he entertains his audience by showing off his pompom and dog-toy retrieval tricks.  I roll out the 50-gallon drum, which he hasn’t seen in a couple of months, and I stand it on end.  He walks directly to it and pushes it over: Godzilla Gus rides again.  He remembers how to bop it and gets it rolling all over the arena.  But here’s what:  during a pause for me to blow my nose, doesn’t he set his jaw against one end of the big, heavy barrel and, pressing sideways, lift it upright.  !!!  In a daze, I click and treat.  What made him think of tilt-a-chair — a game we haven’t played for at least a couple of weeks — and then Apply it to a Different Object?  When I topple the barrel, he rights it again.  And gets a peppermint.  As with his previous quantum leaps (like walking while carrying the traffic cone), a couple of repeats is all we get at first.  After that, it’s as if a memory wiper totally erases the idea from his brain.  But I know it’s in there, dormant but ready to re-emerge the next time he encounters the barrel.

For now, we move on to other things, including matching steps backward and forward.  He cha-chas with me pretty readily, for several steps in a row each time.  He schmoozes with this admirers again, and then we repair to his stall for hay, grooming, and — because the forecast says zero degrees tonight — his Bubba Keg full of treat nuggets.

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