Meet Apple: Terrier in training.

Two weeks ago, my son and his little dog, Apple re-joined our household.   Apple is a 2 year old American Toy Terrier/Boston Terrier mix.  She has the boundless energy of a young pup and the intelligence and stubbornness of a terrier all wrapped in a 7 pound body.   Raised in an apartment, she hasn’t had much opportunity to go for walks, see a variety of dogs and people.   That means Apple had some leash aggression and house training problems.

She growled at people and other dogs that passed by her.  She peed and pooped in corners of the house.  She didn’t know how to walk on a leash without pulling and had developed a cough because she constantly pulled against her collar.  She didn’t come when she was called.  She didn’t know how to stay or settle in one place unless she was crated. 

It was time for her to learn how to fit in with Jilly, Terra and the world at large.   

 

Training.  It’s so necessary and so easy to let it slide when life hands you other challenges, especially with a small dog.  But…and I say this in a tough love way…it’s even more important to train your dog to have good manners for their comfort as well as yours.  Big or small, dogs need to know what is expected of them in the world.  And it’s your job as a dog owner (much like parenting) to teach them socially acceptable behaviors.  Ok, I could go on and on about the importance of training and the lack of it in most dogs I see around me.  It may seem overwhelming to train your dog but it’s not. 

Just like life, you take it one step, one command at a time.

Where to start?  With what Apple already knew how to do: sit and go to her crate.  When Apple sat for me, she got a treat.  When Apple went to her crate, she got a treat.  When Apple peed and pooped outside, she got a treat.  

The biggest challenge here wasn’t basic potty training, it was dealing with anxiety.  What I observed (ok, people another hint: watch your dog, when they’re upset or anxious they will act out.)  was that when I was sitting or working in one spot, Apple was calm.  When I was moving around the house, cooking or cleaning, Apple was running around panting.  Eventually during these times, she would poop in a corner.  

Here’s how I dealt with this problem. 

 

First, Apple went outside to go potty at the same times each day.  When she went potty outside, she got a treat.  Second, I crated Apple or kept her with me in one room or area during transition times to give her a sense of security.  After a week or so, she started to anticipate the schedule and I could tell she was calming down.  Then, after I put her out to go potty, I let her be out of her crate for a short time during transitions.   Now, she poops outside in the morning and lies in her bed during transition times.  Accidents are fewer and farther between. 

The first new command I added was UP.  With a treat in hand, I said, “UP” and picked Apple up.  Then, she got a treat.  It didn’t take her long to figure it out.   Apple is very smart.  And it helps that she loves treats and wants to please.  

Why did I teach her UP?  This is strictly a small dog command.  What it does is let the little dog know that you are going to pick them up, so they don’t startle or squirm in your arms.  It’s safety command, too.  With a little dog, there are times when you are going to have to pick them up quickly to keep them out of harm’s way.    When Apple hears me say it, she now jumps up a little into my arms. 

Next, training task: walks to the park on her new Gentle Leader collar.

Ok, this took some getting used to for her.  Like most dogs, she tried to get it off her muzzle at first.  But, I told her to ‘leave it’ and kept walking.  When she started calmly walking with it, she got a treat.  It took her about two blocks the first day, one block the next, then half a block.  Now she jumps ‘up’ into my arms, I put on her Gentle Leader and off we go to the park.  She loves her morning walks!

Next training task: Learning to pass people and other dogs without growling, pulling or fussing.

It took two and a half weeks.  With a combination of correction when Apple growled and praise when Apple walked by sweetly, she is now walking along with no problems.  Apple greeted an Airedale Terrier yesterday with a wag of the tail and a kiss on the nose!  Success!

Yes, it’s work.  But when it works, everyone can relax and enjoy life so much more! 

That’s the real benefit of training.  Apple isn’t a terrified terrier who snaps and growls but a happy puppy. 

 

As the wheel turns: Out with the old, in with the new.

Yesterday, I picked up 200 pounds of new clay.  I also unloaded 100 plus pounds of old, bad clay that caused a problem called ‘bloating’ in my recently fired work.  You can read about the trials of the problem here and here.  It was very disappointing to say the least.

But that was then, past, old.

Then, I saw the shelves of bumpy bowls and heard my inner voice scolding me for my mistake.  My lack of expertise.  My problem to solve.  I dove head first from the pit of disappointment into a mountain of firing and glazing experiments.  I did not find the answer there or then.

A new answer is here.  Now.

It was the clay.  Mixing a simple earth material like clay into the porcelain that I throw on the wheel is a complicated process.  Components are added in specific amounts at specific points in the process.  If too much of one element is added at one point, the clay is out of balance.  No one can see it or feel it until the clay is fired at the final stage.  Then, this material swells, fills with air and forms bubbles inside and outside the bowls or mugs.  It looks and feels like the pieces have a rash and it’s not pretty.  But it’s not my fault or problem or mistake.  It was the clay manufacturer’s mistake and they gave me new clay.

New clay makes my day.

Today, I sat down at my wheel and threw to my heart’s content.  I felt a surge of energy as each lump of clay whirled into a mug or bowl.  My son asked me to make him a ‘really’ big coffee mug.  So I did.  Then I threw my kind of smaller tea cups.  And I threw a nice, wide serving bowl which I can’t wait to sgraffito. 

Yes, I tossed out the old clay and got 8 new bags.  But what I really unloaded was self-blame, guilt and shame.  What I picked up was new knowledge, self-respect and creative energy.  That’s a wonderful new feeling to have as the wheel turns.

Springing forward while sitting back.

Is it possible to move forward without actually moving? That’s a question I’m asking myself this week after an accident on Saturday injured my foot. I can’t walk very far or fast right now, and for me, that’s a difficult place to be. I know, I’m a busy bee and I try to embrace the Zen idea of non-doing, but I do like ‘to do’, maybe too much.

Perhaps, that’s a clue – too much.

After months of throwing, hand-building, trimming, glazing and firing, I was excited and disappointed. Some of the work turned out better than expected and some not. Either way, I had to keep moving. There were forms to fill out, tags to make, delivering and volunteering to do. I stood and smiled and welcomed and helped at the local ceramics showcase. I talked to friends I haven’t seen in a long time and met some new ones, too. It’s the biggest show I’ve ever participated in and the biggest ceramics show in town. As I stood at the doors greeting over 1,000 people on Saturday morning, I smiled and watched beautiful work walk out the door from hundreds of talented ceramic artists. It was amazing and humbling and inspiring and overwhelming.

Perhaps, that’s a clue, too – amazing.

I had a great time and now it’s over. And, coincidentally, on Saturday after my shifts were over, I fell over. It was a silly accident. I tripped, fell to my knees twisting my foot and now have to spend time each day sitting still. I can walk, but I have to go slowly and stay on even ground.

Another clue – stay on even ground.

So, here I sit. Looking out the window at a beautiful, blue, cloudless sky and chartreuse leaves sparkling with sunshine, I wonder. There is such a big world out there and so many places to go, things to do, dreams to dream and ideas to try. I want to get moving. Just then, my eyes catch the flight of a hawk overhead and I want to soar with it. But, I can’t.
Outside, spring blossoms out and birds fly forward while I sit back and watch for a bit.

The Science of Art. Or welcoming back my inner nerd.

I was a math and science nerd in high school. I was the one who got all A’s, joined the honor society and actually liked algebra, chemistry and physics. Ok, I hated Latin, but then, doesn’t everybody? I had one brief shining non-nerd moment as the high school basketball star’s girlfriend, then my family moved across the country and that was that.

Then I rebelled. I refused to take anymore nerd classes and took art instead. My inner artist came out to play. She never stopped. I’ve spent years studying art, making art, showing and selling art. But a few weeks ago, my artist had a problem. She called for help and got advice from more experience clay artists but didn’t find the answer.

That’s when she called her inner nerd to solve the mystery of the bumpy bowls.

Enter the nerd. Theory: It was either the wrong clear glaze with the under glaze or it was a firing problem with the kiln too hot or too cool.

The experiment: All pieces in the most recent batch of wheel thrown pieces were noted, numbered and charted. The group was divided into three to test three different glazes. Then pieces from each glaze group were fired at two different temperatures, cone 6 and cone 5. The groups were unloaded and the nerd neatly noted each and every piece for glaze consistency, color changes, and clay changes.

Nerd glaze conclusions: Black, purple, green, yellow and orange underglazes react more consistently with zinc free clear but some do change. A new chocolate brown was discovered with the regular clears. Reds stay red regardless of the clear used. The best overall coverage and smoothest feel was the zinc free clear. Jet black underglaze did not accept any of the clear glazes consistently.

Nerd firing conclusions: Cone 5 or 6 firings did not affect the color changes in any of the clear glazes. Several pieces fired with solid satin black and red did not fire all the way at cone 5. Stay at cone 6 for best over all results.

The mystery of the bumpy bowls still perplexed the nerd. Neither theory had proved to be the solution.

That's when the artist remembered something about a few throwing sessions months ago. The nerd listened as the artist explained feeling hard bits while pulling up the clay. Something that had never happened before but as the bowls and mug was thrown, pressure compressed the bits and they seemed to go away. So the artist kept throwing. No bumps appeared at greenware or bisqueware stages, so the artist shrugged it off as nothing. The nerd got excited.

Nerd clay conclusions: Bumps appeared this time in only two pieces and both were fired at cone 6. After hearing about the hard bits and throwing sessions by the artist, the nerd took out all the pieces with bumps. Adding up the weights of all bumpy pieces equaled 25 pound bag of clay. It was a bad bag of clay.

This experiment was over. The mystery of the bumpy bowls was solved.

My inner artist was proud to know what happened and why. But my inner nerd isn't satisfied with the glaze results and wants to do more tests. My inner artist sighs, shakes her head and just wants to go back to throwing. My inner nerd wants the artist to keep better track of clay changes in the future.

I see a bright future ahead for both of them. The experiment gave the artist a way to make a beautiful brown and the nerd problem to solve. The conclusions made the artist happy knowing she didn’t make the bumps and the nerd figured out how to prevent the problem.

My conclusion: The nerd and the artist may look like opposites but when they play on the same team, the combination of science and art is beautiful.

Breathing room.

Last time I wrote about waiting, I’d just loaded the kiln. Inside were many pieces of clay work including three big, porcelain sgraffito bowls. I had high hopes. I wanted these three bowls to come out smooth, shiny and perfect. I tried to wait patiently but I was excited and anxious.

When they came out, they looked like they had a bad rash. They were bumpy, not beautiful. And all my hopes of entering them in a local ceramic show were over. I’d never had this happen with any of my bowls before. I didn’t know what went wrong.

I do know what I did right.

I asked friends for help and support. They were kind and sympathetic and helpful. But even though they have many more years of experience than I, they weren’t sure what went wrong. I found out that this, glaze business, is not an exact science and it goes wrong all the time. I called the glaze manufacturer for help and got a few ideas. I got on the internet and did searches, read forums and took notes. I found out my problem isn’t a new one and I’m not alone.

This time, I was going to give myself time. I was going to wait before trying any more glazing on anything. But although I told myself I was just being wise and cautious and careful. I was just procrastinating out of fear. Then, my stubbornness kicked in. I wanted to persist. Push on. Fast forward through this failure to success. Now. Today. That’s when I saw the flip side of my fears. Pushing and over working.

Breathing room.

That’s what I really needed. A little space to digest the disappointment. Research the problem. Gather new information and glazes. Devise a testing strategy. And try again. I spent days glazing mugs, vases and bowls made with the same clay, using the same underglazes and bisqued at the same temperature with three different clear glazes. I coded each and every piece, made notes of the glazing procedure and took pictures of what they looked like before and during the process. I’m planning on firing them in two smaller batches at two different cone temperatures to see how that affects the clay and glazes. And the smaller batches give the pieces more room for heat and air circulation.

Today, I loaded the kiln to fire the first batch of clear glazed pieces. While the kiln fires and cools, I’m giving myself time to rest, write, catch up on laundry and make a roast for dinner. Because I see I’m a lot like my clay. It needs room to breathe during each stage of the process from throwing and glazing to firing and cool down.

It needs breathing room and so do I.

New beginnings.

Blooming tulips. Mating geese. Leaf buds opening. And dogs shedding. There’s no doubt about it, it’s spring. And I love it, even though it means weeding and pruning and sweeping up piles of dog hair.

But doesn’t that seem right?

In order to have new beginnings, we have to let go of the old. We have to dig up and weed out all the past hurts that choke our present and prevent new growth. We have to prune back the branches that have gotten too long, extending ourselves into areas that now may not be healthy. We have to shed our winter coats that have protected us against the cold and let our skins feel the fresh breeze and soak in the new warmth from the spring sunshine.

I’m the first to admit, I always want to jump into the new right away. I’m not the best at letting go of the old. I can find myself mired in old mud. Stuck. Then, I get it. With each shovel of dirt that I dig out of my past, I turn over the soil in my soul. It gets more air, water and light. So do I.

Now the seeds of new beginnings can take root and grow and bloom. It’s spring outside and inside me, too.

Talking to the Trees: Release and Embrace Joy.

(This is the fourth from my collection of essays. To read the first three go here and here and here.)


A year of wonderful changes brings a spring that sparkles with energy, new beginnings and rebirth. As the plum blossoms, the yellow forsythia bushes out and the daffodils and hyacinths sway in the wind, I smile and sigh a sigh of peaceful happiness.

I want to open my arms and wrap all the blooming around myself, drink in the happiness and let it enliven my winter damp spirit. But in the sweet stillness my mind buzzes with worries: a storm may be beyond the horizon. I can let myself be happy, but what do I do? Resist.

“Release,” said the Mother Tree.

As I lean against her wide, welcoming trunk, all the above going through my mind, I hear her words and smile. She is so right, of course. So much is right in my world. So much has changed for the better, more than I ever imagined. And I am very grateful. And I want more than ever to open up and accept my gladness, my good fortune for my family and my thankfulness. But, silly as it may seem, I didn’t know how.

What I know is how to fear, cry, wish, hope and beg. I’d been doing that at the base of Mother Tree’s trunk for 3 years. Now my wishes and hopes are coming true, my fears dissolving and I don’t know how to embrace it all.

But Mother Tree did.

When she said, “Release,” she told me to cry, to smile, to laugh, to be thankful, and mostly, to let that old energy go back into the earth so that I could embrace the new energy. I could hug my renewal and rebirth. And then, I would blossom, too. And that budding, opening, unfolding would burst into creative energy that could enliven the world around me just as the plum, daffodils and hyacinth flowers energize my life.

I see a new leaf woman sculpture and sculpted masks of the wise trees in clay. Along with essays like this one gathered together to help bring this energy into the lives of others, either opening their eyes to the wisdom all around them or let them know that what they hear whispered between the leaves is true and that they are not the only ones who hear it.

Will I make all the sculptures that I envision?

Will I write all the wisdom that I hear? Will I get a chance to bring this to the world in a way that is understood and brings about renewal and rebirth to others?

I don’t know.

I do know I can embrace this new happiness, renewal and rebirth in myself. And, I can also worry that it’s too good to be true. But my heart is open and my worried mind will not stop life’s joyful changes anymore than the rain stops the blooms from blossoming.

After all, the roots need the rain to feed the limbs to grow the blossoms. So rain leads to flowering.

“Release,” said Mother Tree. I did.