Good day sunshine

Is there a better feeling than lying in the sun on a clear, cold, windy day? No, at least if you ask the dogs.

dogs in the sun

We wait until the sun is high enough to give some warmth before we open the curtains, so sometimes there’s very little sunlight when Lucy comes into our bedroom.

a little sun

There’s a little sliver from the window. A little sun is better than none.

Zoe likes to lie in the sun, but sometimes he mistakes the location of his head for the location of his entire body.

cat on a hot carpet floor

But perhaps I do him a disservice; perhaps he simply wants to adjust his solar gain and thermal emission to maintain a constant, comfortable internal temperature. Yes, that must be it.

It’s no accident that the rear of our house faces south. When I was laying out the foundation lines for the house, I wanted the rear of the house to face as close to due south as I could manage, because I planned to have lots of windows in the south-facing side. One day I put a stake vertically in the ground, calculated the exact time of local solar noon, and waited. When it was solar noon, I made a line along the shadow of the stake. I used that line to define the direction that the house’s rear would face.

I could have simply used a compass, or waited until my watch said it was noon, but I wanted to be as accurate as possible, and both of those methods have problems. The compass would have shown me magnetic north, which, where we live, it is about four degrees away from true north. And, since each time zone is 15 degrees wide in longitude, the sun’s position at civil noon varies depending on where you are in the time zone. We are close to the western border of the Eastern Time Zone, so there would have been several degrees error from that.

Using a compass would have worked pretty well, all things considered, but since I knew the longitude of my house from a GPS receiver, I could calculate how far solar time is away from civil time, and, theoretically, get closer to true north.

Unfortunately, the sun’s azimuth (the compass direction from which the sunlight is coming) at noon at a given location varies through the year, so unless you put the stake in the ground on exactly the right date, your stake’s shadow will not point in a true north-south direction. Depending on the date, the sun’s azimuth can be a few degrees away from true south (in the northern hemisphere) at solar noon. However, a true north-south line would be the best orientation. Since the sun’s azimuth varies on both sides of the north-south line, that line would be closest on average to the sun’s azimuth.

My line was only a few degrees at most from a true north-south line, close enough that it makes very little difference in how much sun we get on a cold winter day. I could and maybe should have calculated the optimum roof overhang to provide shade in the summer and minimum interference with solar gain in the winter, but what we have is just about right.

We have six-foot sliding glass doors in the bedrooms and an eight-foot sliding glass door in the living room. We keep one side of the door in our bedroom covered with an insulation panel, so we only get half the possible solar gain in the bedroom, but that’s plenty on a sunny day. Even on sunny days when the outside temperature is below freezing, the bedroom temperature will exceed 70 degrees without running the heat. The living room will do the same.

I didn’t really maximize the house design for passive solar heating. There is no provision for increased thermal mass, so the temperature goes up quickly and then tends to go down fairly quickly when the sun dips below the pines in the back. But that’s what wood-burning stoves are for. Burning wood is just another way to get solar energy, although not as cleanly as absorbing it directly.

If I had it to do over again, I would probably change the house plan and construction a little. But I’m happy with what we have. The dogs, too.

A few considerations on a recent report regarding a preferred orientation for a dog’s body along magnetic field lines during the process of elimination

(Note: Part of this post was published earlier today. Due to some problems, apparently mainly my ignorance of WordPress, it was incomplete at that time.)

I’m a keen observer of dog behavior, so I was naturally interested when the news media reported that dogs like to face north or south when they poop. The reports are based on a Czech-German study of the body orientation of dogs during defecation. The study finds that dogs prefer to align their bodies in the north-south direction when pooping. I’ve learned not to rely on the general news media for any real understanding of science, or anything else, so I decided to find the original study. It appears that the reports in the media are a reasonably accurate statement of the study’s findings. For a change. As far as they go.

The actual title is “Dogs are sensitive to small variations of the Earth’s magnetic field.”

To summarize: the researchers used a group of volunteer dog owners to record their dogs’ orientation during various activities, and finally concentrated on the process of defecation. They found that during periods when the Earth’s magnetic field is stable (not changing in direction or intensity), the dogs preferentially aligned themselves in a north-south direction. They did not do so during periods when the magnetic field was changing.

I didn’t do a deep analysis of the study, so I can’t judge the validity of the statistical results (assuming it’s not a complete hoax). It sounds a little flaky to me, especially since it relied on observations by ordinary dog owners, and also included no Doberman pinschers. I noted a fairly large number of small dogs, who can be notoriously contrary. Dachshunds in particular seem to be overrepresented. If the small dogs were even slightly suspicious about the nature of the study*, they would almost certainly have attempted to sabotage the results, just for the heck of it. Because that’s the way they roll.

Volunteer dog owners actually performed the observations. That’s not necessarily a fatal flaw, but it is a weakness. I assume the dog owners were told what to do, but not exactly why they were doing it. They presumably could have been familiar with the researchers’ previous, related work**, but whether that could have or did influence their observations is uncertain.

My own observations of dogs pooping are extensive. I don’t go out of my way to see it, but when you’re walking a dog and hoping that he will just please god get it over with it’s starting to rain harder, you really can’t help but notice. I have a lot of experience noticing it, going back at least to 1979, when I adopted Jesse, continuing through four other dogs and ending with our current two, Zeke and Lucy.

Based on my observations, small dogs, especially miniature pinschers, do not give a crap where they crap, or what direction they’re aimed when they do it. We have had Lucy for almost a year, and throughout that time I have taken her and Zeke on the same path around the house multiple times every day. I think a reasonable estimate of the number of trips is between 800 and 1000. By now I am pretty sure she knows the path, and could run it backwards blindfolded if food were involved. And yet when she feels the need to poop, which is surprisingly often, she stops wherever she happens to be and does it. Right in the path, where we will walk again within a few hours. It does not occur to her that if she went a few feet to the side of the path we would not have to treat the path like a minefield. Or maybe it does occur to her. Dogs have a different sense of humor from humans, and more different from female humans in particular.

I am pretty sure there is no preferred orientation of her body when the urge is acted on. The direction appears to be random. However, I will try to be more observant from now on. My iphone has a compass app, so I can check fairly easily, if I can remember to take it with me on walks around the house.

My observations of Zeke, on the other hand, indicate that there is a strong directional preference, but it does not involve the Earth’s magnetic field. If Zeke happens to feel the need to poop when we’re walking around the house, he goes into the woods, searches a while for precisely the best location, and unloads there. I don’t think he has shown a preferred compass heading for this process. If, on the other hand, he waits for our long walks down and back up the mountain, he does show a very strongly preferred orientation, but it is a matter of geographical gradient rather than the Earth’s magnetic field.

We live on a mountain, so for essentially our entire walk there is an uphill slope on one side of the road, and in places it’s quite steep. I know Zeke is looking for a rest stop when he climbs up and starts walking along the slope. When he’s ready, he turns to face downhill, with his rear end aimed up. And then he poops. He apparently is unfamiliar with the old saying about what direction poop rolls on a hill.

I don’t have a good explanation for Zeke’s behavior, but it is essentially 100 percent repeatable. I just figure he missed the heavenly doggy class on which way to poop on a mountain.

* It is not unlikely, in my opinion, that the researchers’ previous work in animal sensitivity to the Earth’s magnetic field would be know. Although, come to think of it, I doubt that many small dogs regularly read scientific journals, even if they are publically available online.

** It is far more likely that the dog owners could have read the researchers’ previous work, if for no other reason than that they are more likely than dogs to own computers.

He ain’t nothing but a hound dog

Zeke was one sorry dog Monday night.

Not feeling so well, eh?

Not feeling so well, eh?

Late in the afternoon he went out on the deck with me, and saw/heard/smelled something in the woods. So he ran down the stairs, jumped over the gate and disappeared. I gave him a while, because I know from experience that it’s almost impossible to chase him down, and then I went looking for him. No luck. It was way after sunset when I got the car out and began looking up and down Fouche Gap Road. Zeke doesn’t really understand cars, so I was halfway expecting to come home with bad news. Instead I came home with Zeke.

I found him at the side of the road close to the house. I opened the back door and he jumped in. When I got him back home, I noticed that his stomach was absolutely full.

Full belly peeking out from beneath uncomfortable dog

Full belly peeking out from beneath uncomfortable dog

That bulge right in front of his right rear leg is not normal for him, at least not since he lost 15 pounds. What looks like a bulge on his left side is his rib cage, which is prominent because of the way he’s lying.

He was clearly uncomfortable. He moaned and walked around the house. He would lie down next to the front door, which usually means he wants to go outside. I took him out but nothing happened at either end of the dog. Some time before we went to bed, he wanted to go out and sit on our elevated front walk. There he threw up what looked like a couple of pieces of raw stew beef and organ meat, possibly smallish livers.

I cleaned that up and let him back inside. A little while later when we were in the bedroom, he started making the noise that dogs do when they’re getting ready to vomit. I couldn’t get him outside, but at least he threw up on the tile in the dining room instead of the bedroom carpet. It looked pretty similar to the earlier sample, but without livers and with more fat.

Later still (I didn’t get much sleep Monday night), he went out on the front walk again, where he vomited a larger portion of whatever he ate. It still looked like he had found and eaten someone’s stew beef.

Even later, he wanted to go out, so I got up from the bed, put on a jacket and walked him around the house. I didn’t bother to put pants on over my short pajama bottoms. I don’t recommend that. Zeke didn’t do anything other than sniff the air. Looking for more raw meat, I guess.

I am pretty sure he didn’t catch and eat an animal, because there was no sign of fur or bones. All that came out, other than the possible organ meat, looked like fresh, red beef that you might see in the grocery store. I started worrying about someone trying to poison coyotes, but it had been long enough since he ate that, at least based on some Web research, he should have already started showing signs of strychnine poisoning. Whatever it was, he apparently got rid of enough of it that he was able to sleep for most of the night, which is more than I can say for myself.

Today for breakfast he got a few individual pieces of dog food instead of his normal portion. By lunch he seemed more like his old self, and by tonight he seemed almost recovered, although he didn’t eat the two dog biscuits he normally does. He mouthed one unenthusiastically for a while, and then Leah picked up the second and put it away. Right now, he is still lying next to the front door instead of in his bed.

I don’t think he’s quite over it yet. I would like to think he learned a lesson, but that would be fooling myself.

Soggy doggy

We had about 2.75 inches of rain from late yesterday (Monday) through midafternoon today. It was raining steadily when I took the dogs for their morning walk. I dressed them both in their raincoats. Lucy, as usual, treated it as torture and didn’t relieve herself. Zeke usually does OK in his raincoat, but this morning he absolutely refused to go. I thought Lucy might relieve herself if I took her raincoat off and released her, but she just hightailed it back to the front door. I took Zeke’s raincoat off and let him off the leash, hoping for a better result. (Leah scolded me for letting him off the leash, but I thought he had enough sense to come in from the rain. Silly me.) I expected him to do his business and come back. Instead, he went for a three-and-a-half hour romp around the mountain in the cold rain.

I thought he might figure out that it was drier and warmer inside, so after a short romp he would come back. But no. After a while I went outside and called him. Later I drove up and down the mountain, but no Zeke. Leah always asks me whether I call him, but I usually don’t do that. The only reason I called him earlier was to remind him where home was. When he’s been on one of his romps, if I see him and call him, he has never come. He usually looks at me, then turns around and runs the other way.

He’s done his disappearing act before, but this time I wasn’t sure he was going to come back. After lunch I was backing out of the driveway to look for him again when a big SUV pulled in beside me. The woman in the passenger seat rolled her window down and asked if I was looking for a dog. They had found him trotting down Fouche Gap Road and loaded him up in their back seat. He was soaked, and so was their back seat. I was apologetic; they were understanding.

Here’s Zeke waiting for a towel.

Zeke. Not repentant.

Zeke. Not repentant.

He looks chastened, but he wasn’t. For Zeke, it’s all in a day’s work. But he was tired.

I know what dogs like

A veterinarian at some Web site recommended that dog owners not give their pets typical commercial treats. You should give them baby carrots because they’re healthy and dogs love them. Carrots are cheap, so we thought we’d give it a try. I offered Zeke and Lucy some pretty little carrots. Zeke is polite, so he took his to his bed and spit it out. Lucy doesn’t give a hoot so she just dropped it immediately.

This came as no surprise to me. I’m not a veterinarian or a dog behavior expert, but I know what dogs love, and carrots isn’t it. What dogs love is human treats. I’ve seen the intense stare when I stand in the kitchen eating one of those giant marshmallows (Each one is a meal!). Zeke switches his gaze between me and the marshmallow. As I said, he’s polite. Lucy, on the other hand, stares single-mindedly at the marshmallow, opening and closing her jaws when I take a bite, willing the marshmallow to be in her mouth instead of mine.

Lucy can recognize the particular sound that a plastic bag of marshmallows makes when a twist-tie is being undone. It is basically impossible for me to eat an entire marshmallow when they are in the house.

Here are Zeke and Lucy working Leah over to get a bite of marshmallow.

Watch your fingers

Watch your fingers

This is a setup, of course, because I wanted to document this behavior if either one of us ends up accidentally eaten while holding a marshmallow.

It’s pretty much the same thing if I get ice cream. In either case, they come and stare. Zeke drools. Lucy has better lip control. Or maybe she’s better at conserving vital digestive fluids.

They also like peanut butter. Each one has their own appropriately-sized peanut butter bong. Lucy gets as much of the peanut butter as she can out of hers, and then when Zeke is finished, she tries to climb into his bong.

Does my head smell like peanut butter?

Does my head smell like peanut butter?

Maybe Leah and I should make our own doggie treats. I’m thinking peanut butter flavored ice cream with marshmallows.

This post was inspired in part by Pablo’s post about his two dogs’ intent stare at food.