Archive for the ‘Animal Life’ Category
Merry Christmas
Sunday, December 25th, 2011
And to all a good night! And a good year! And…well, whatever!
So, since I last posted, all of this has happened:
1) The Boy graduated high school.
2) Chewie had to be put to sleep. The day The Boy graduated high school.
3) The Hubby had to travel. On his vacation. On the day Chewie had to be put to sleep. On the day The Boy graduated high school.
4) My gracious sister in law, visiting from Colorado to see her nephew graduate high school, had to drive with me to the vet’s to put Chewie to sleep. On the day my husband had to travel. On his vacation. On The Boy’s graduation day.
You see where this is going, right? A LOT has happened since I last wrote, and all that above was just one day of all the stuff that happened.
Fast forward a bit….
The Boy went off to college. I mostly held it together when we dropped him off at the dorm. The Hubby….well, let’s say he was caught unaware of how much he needed to hold it together. But we managed. The Boy managed. Well, he managed to be patient while his parents got emotional and, dare I say, weepy. But all is well – the dorm is ok (although he’s not too impressed with the cafeteria food) and his roommate is ok, but most importantly he MET.A.GIRL. Wait, maybe I need to back up. I forgot to mention he broke up with The Girlfriend before he left for college. So it’s totally OK for him to get a new girlfriend. Which is what he did when he met.a.girl. We got to met said girl and she seems very nice. And good for The Boy. Happy Boy = Happy Parents.
Fast forward a bit more…
November arrives (just like it always, right after October). Oh, wait… October. But before October, there was August. (Not right before, but, before, you know?) And August’s main event was Hurricane Irene. Otherwise known as The First Week The Boy Was At School And I Was Home Alone Without Power While The Hubby Traveled And Had Power. (I’m sure that’s what everyone was calling it.) Yes, we were out of power for about a week. Yes, we have a gas generator. Yes, I had to fill that sucker up myself while The Hubby was gone. Although he did fill up the gas cans before he left, so there’s that.
So… where was I next? Ah, yes… October. Freak snow storm. And if you guessed that once again it was the week known as The Boy Was At School And I Was Home Alone Without Power While The Hubby Traveled And Had Power, you would be correct. Except this time, it was COLD. And got DARK at 4 in the afternoon. Nothing cheerier than sitting at home, alone with one dog, in the dark, without heat (well, I did have the propane fireplace), and having to go outside to fill up the damn generator with gas to keep the frig going and occasionally turn a lamp on. Nope, nothing cheerier than that. Because, at that point, at least I had the dog.
And now November. Pansy is looking skinny. Which is generally good. She’s been a bit of a porker since we got her from the pound and the vet had always been after us to get her to lose some weight. She clearly missed Chewie. Her pal was gone – no one to run around with, harass, steal toys from, play, or chase. So I figured she wasn’t eating as much while she was grieving. But one night, The Hubby said he thought Pansy’s breath stank. And it did. The same exact way Chewie’s breath stank about 2 – 3 weeks before we had to put him down. I called the vet the next day and got her in for a checkup. She was super good and the vet didn’t seem to think there was a big problem – or at least, nothing she could tell from the exam. They didn’t smell any stinky breath or see any signs of discomfort. But they did take a blood sample. And the results were not good. Kidney disease – the same thing Chewie had suffered from. From the results, they figured she had about 80% kidney failure. It became clear within a week that she was going downhill quickly. She basically stopped eating. She wasn’t drinking much. She did, however, still seem to be happy and willing to do things with me.
So, the first weekend that The Boy came home with The New Girlfriend, I had to wake him up and tell him we were taking Pansy to the emergency vet’s to put her down. (And if you were The New Girlfriend, wouldn’t you want one of the first experiences with your new boyfriend’s family to be woken up by a hysterically crying woman who has to put her dog down? Sure, great way to meet the family!) So this time, it was The Hubby who was with me as we put my dog down. He was kind of surprised at how quick it took effect. But it made both of us relive a little bit Chewie, so it totally sucked.
And to make November complete, I found out my aunt’s cancer had come back. It is basically terminal; the first course of chemo did do much and the second chemo was recently stopped.
Yea, so it’s been kind of a sucky end to 2011.
Posted in Animal Life, The Boy, The Hubby | Comments Off on Merry Christmas
It’s from France
Friday, September 18th, 2009
Chewie hasn’t been himself lately. He’s been biting and chewing at his back end/tail area. So much so, that he has torn out fur and been biting right on his skin. The Hubby went out a few nights ago and got him some spray to calm the irritation and an “E-Collar”.
Now, you might be tempted to think an E Collar is somehow shaped in a similar manner as the letter E. You’d be wrong. It’s one of those horrible collars so animals can’t lick or otherwise get to a sore spot. Of course, this makes it incredibly funny to watch. At first, Chewie would only walk backwards. Then, miraculously, he figured out how to move forward again. But then he couldn’t sit down. Once he figured that out, he still wasn’t sure if he could lay down. Eventually he figured out he could lay down – just like he always had, only with this stupid piece of plastic in the way. Although he realized there was no way he was getting under the bed with that stupid thing on.
So it just so happened that Pansy had a vet appointment today to get her rabies shot. Since Chewie is a bad patient at the vet’s, I make The Hubby take him; thus, I am off the hook and only have to take one dog at a time. The vet and the vet tech are both super nice, and start off by asking how Pansy is doing (although they forgot to ask how I was doing). I said that she was fine, but Chewie was having some problems. I told them about his itching and licking, and mentioned that I had just today seen a few fleas on Pansy, but not Chewie.
Apparently Chewie is having an allergic reaction to the fleas. It’s not the flea bites that are irritating him, it’s the mere presence of the fleas and their saliva. The vet used the analogy of a person being allergic to bee stings. Gee, I can totally sympathize now, huh?
So Frontline was recommended. I’ve purchased Frontline before and remembered it was horribly expensive at the vet’s. So I told them I would buy it at a store and just paid for Pansy’s rabies shot.
Well, you can buy Frontline at the store — if you use their online store. Most of the big pet care chains — cough, cough, PetSmart, Petco — either don’t carry it or only have it online. I got some decent pricing at 1800PetMeds, but it’s Friday and it wouldn’t even ship until Monday – so it’d be mid week before there was any relief. The pricing at Costco was great, but we’d have to renew our membership for $100 to buy the stuff at the cheap price. We did manage to find it at the pet store at the mall – the same place we bought Chewie, actually. So, $112 later we have one box of Frontline Plus for Dogs and one box of Frontline Plus for Cats. I opted for the Plus version since it has more killing power. And basically, you want as much killing power as you can get when dealing with fleas. Plus it will keep those nasty ticks away. I will order some (much) cheaper Frontline Plus online and not have to worry too much about the shipping times. Hopefully I will just have to do it for the next 3 months and then, with a little luck and the onslaught of winter, the fleas will disappear instead of my money.
So as The Hubby and I were driving home from the mall, I looked at the package. And I swear this is the truth – the packaging used the word “bitches”. As in, this product is safe to use on pregnant, lactating and breeding bitches. I mean, how often do you get to see that on a package? So I look a little further. The manufacturer of the product is Merial, a company based in Duluth, GA. But — it’s manufactured in France. Figures! Only the French could get away with that wording on their packaging…
Posted in Animal Life, The Hubby | Comments Off on It’s from France
Goat Rescue
Saturday, October 18th, 2008
Gather round the campfire kids – it’s time for the story of the Goat Rescue!
Yup, it was a crisp autumn morning, the kind I’d like to sleep in some more, but can’t. My parents were away – it was supposed to be camping, but since the truck and camper was still at the house, it must have turned into a hotel trip. So, that meant I was in charge of the livestock – baby chicks inside, and outside – multiple cats, half a dozen chickens and 3 goats.
So I get over to the coop to let the chickens out of the cage. I notice there, in the corner, is Tug – the white goat with horns. He isn’t moving toward me – his head is in the hay stack. Probably not too unusual – after all, he’s a goat – and goats eat hay. I got a bit closer, and it became clear he was trying to get out of the haystack. Yup, he got his head stuck in the wire fencing used to hold back the hay. He wasn’t anxious or overly upset, but clearly wanted to get out of there. I tried to move his head to untangle him, but no luck. I tried several times – moved his head to the left, down, tried to get his horns in the right spot – still nothing.
I had been smart enough to bring my cell phone with me. The Hubby was home, but sleeping. I really didn’t want to wake him up. But I didn’t want to go home and find wire cutters – it felt like it would be too long to leave the goat. So, I did what I had to – I called my dad. No answer. Tried again – calling my mom (I’m so glad they each have their own phone!)
So, my mom answers in her cheerful voice – Good Morning – and I’m like – “yea, except for this one thing. Your goat.” I could hear her breath catch – what could be wrong? “He’s stuck in the hay”. So she gets dad on the phone. He directs me to the workroom in the basement and helps me find the bolt cutters. So off I go, to cut some wire first thing in the morning (really, isn’t that the first thing you do every morning?). I make a few cuts and voila! Tug is freed from his jail (you know, the kind where your food is shoved in your face and you can’t stand it anymore).
So now it’s time to go inside to check on the baby chicks. Everything is fine – and as I’m about to go, my cell phone rings. It’s Mom. She says she and dad were talking and they want me to get the goats outside in the run and put the chickens inside the coop. That way, the chickens will lay eggs where they are supposed to and will be in there to roost at night, and the dumb goats won’t a) get stuck again or b) get cut by the wire where is was cut back. Makes sense – so back out I go to the coop. I get the goats outside into the run, and start rounding up the chickens. I get two of them without any issues. There are three more, plus the rooster that just will not cooperate. Any time I got close to one of them, I would get butted by a white goat with horns in the back of the leg.
This morning was going downhill. Fast. I was out there for a good 30 minutes, chasing chickens and getting attacked by a horny goat.
I finally reached the end of my rope. I called my mom back. “How badly do you want me to get those chickens into the coop? They are just not cooperating and the damn goat keeps knocking me in the back of the leg!” No problem, she says. Just leave them out there and they’ll just be cold and have to deal with it. Awesome! I think, along with the thought that the next time I have chicken for dinner, I’m gonna enjoy it like never before (after all, the best revenge is eating something, right?).
So kids, the moral of the story – never let the chickens out of the cage until you’re sure the goats haven’t gotten themselves stuck in a hay feeder in case you have to cut the goat out and then kick him out of the coop for his own good.
Posted in Animal Life | Comments Off on Goat Rescue
We’re All Hanging In
Wednesday, August 20th, 2008
Well, the first two days of “animal watch” have gone almost without a hitch.
Every year, my parents take the grandkids camping. That means a whole week of just me and the Hubby… and my mother’s animals.
This year, her menagerie includes: 4 kittens, 6 hens, 1 rooster and a GOAT. Yes folks, a goat. A baby goat. A cute, lovable baby goat that thinks he’s a dog and wants to follow you around everywhere and be with you and keep you company and cries when you leave him. Yup, that kind of a goat. Plus, he jumps. And he has horns, which are a bit stubby, but still not pleasant to feel at the back of your legs when he is trying to get your attention.
The trip started on Tuesday, so that was an easy day. All the critters were pretty much taken care of for the day. All I had to do was get everyone settled for the night. My mom has the chickens trained (yes, apparently is possible to train chickens) to go into a cage at night. So all I have to do is close the door (I don’t know why she didn’t train them – or maybe the goat – do to that part of it!) and lock them up for safety from the predators that like chicken at night (no – I am not talking about The Hubby!!) Then in the morning I let them out, put out some hay for everyone to munch on and we’re good to go. I go back in the afternoon to take care of the kitties and back at night to put everyone away for the night.
Tonight I was a bit later than I thought I would be and it was actually dark when I went out there. So I had the flashlight with me. As the light scanned over the pen, there were eyes looking back at me. I was a bit nervous that I was going to have unwanted visitors in the pen. But no, all was ok – sort of. The door to the small pen had gotten closed and the goat and several of the hens got stuck in the larger portion of the pen. So I had to pick up 4 hens and 1 rooster and get them into their night time crate without causing too much commotion. All while the goat was trying to get my attention and give him some food (hungry little guy!)
But we’re all hanging in there!
Posted in Animal Life, Family Life | Comments Off on We’re All Hanging In
Chicken Legs
Wednesday, August 6th, 2008
No, I am not referring to my own legs. Check this out:
Pansy lays down like this often. I’ve given it the nickname “chicken legs” since it looks like a chicken sitting on my cutting board, with the legs protruding out to the sides, ready to cut off. I’m not sure I’ve ever had a dog lay down like this.
She’s been attracting attention from our neighbor dogs lately. I’ve been letting them roam outside in the afternoons and if they see that Joker and Ace are out, they both run over to the edge of the property line and start making noise. Sometimes it’s just Chewie barking, sometimes it is just Pansy. It’s hardly ever both of them at the same time. I can get Chewie to come back to the house without too much trouble, but Pansy has been ignoring me calling her. Actually, it’s not that she is ignoring me, it’s that she’s trying to get the attention of Joker and Ace. They are labs (one black, one chocolate) – fixed of course – so they love to play. They never bark at Chewie or Pansy – they just sniff and jump and run and, well, play. Pansy has been inserting herself in between the two of them, getting them to chase her, nipping at them – generally being a pesty little sister. And when I drag her away, she’s as happy as can be that she got to play with them.
Posted in Animal Life | Comments Off on Chicken Legs
I swear this is true…
Tuesday, June 24th, 2008
The following is a true story. I am not making it up, although, since it happened in the morning, I may not remember everything correctly.
First, some background. I have not talked much about her, but we do have a cat. Her name is Bianca. We’ve had her for about 6 or so years now, right from the time she was born. We had her fixed and found a new home for her mommy (a.k.a – Grandma’s house). Her mommy (Kitty Kitty – that’s a story for a different post!) went to live at Grandma’s across the street from us. Kitty Kitty was very proficient at reproducing, and always seemed to have the same basic kitten: long hair, black or grey, with the possibility of some white thrown in. Her descendents have continued her great reproductive legacy. I think my mom is mostly ok with that – it’s a bit of a farm atmosphere there and cats are great at keeping the littler critters away.
Our Bianca is a terrific hunter herself. Often we will see her, stalking her prey. There have been several baby bunnies, birds and mice left for us to admire at our doorstep. She is a pretty small cat. She wasn’t the runt of the litter, but it’s like she never grew up either. She is pretty thin – with shorter hair – not a big puffball by any means.
Ok – here is the story:
I had to drive Hubby into work today. As we are driving, he says to me:
“You know, I had this strange dream last night. I was sleeping and I thought I felt Bianca jump on me. I went to pet her, but it wasn’t her. It was a kitten. And then another kitten. Suddenly it seemed there were kittens everywhere. We looked under the bed and there was Bianca with about 40 kittens! Hubby looked at me in confusion because we know she is fixed and besides, he never saw her get fat (and that is something one would definitely notice on Bianca!).”
I thought that was kind of a funny dream because of something my mother told me yesterday. So I told him:
“Mom told me that her porch cat, who usually ducks and hides when Chewie comes to “visit” her, has actually been hissing at Chewie lately instead. She was pretty sure the cat hadn’t grown this backbone for no reason, and she discovered the reason later on: there were kittens to protect. The porch kitty had given birth a few weeks before and now “dropped off” the kittens for my mom to put in a crate to keep them away from natural enemies (such as that lunatic dog that comes over whenever he feels like it and thinks it’s ok to come on my porch and eat my food! And don’t get me started on that other one that tries to sniff my butt!). So my mom put the 3 black kittens into the crate and has been letting mommy in and out a few times a day, safe in the knowledge her babies are fine. But a few hours after putting the kittens in, there was a loud meowing from the porch. Mommy had neglected to bring the last kitten to the crate. This one was unusual though – it was not grey, not black, not even white, but tabby colored.”
So Hubby says to me:
“That is so weird. I was going to say this, but then decided not to because I didn’t think it was important. One of the kittens that Bianca had in my dream was a tabby!!”
Cue Twilight Zone music
So either Hubby is channeling my mother OR he is channeling his dog dreaming about my mother’s cats!
Posted in Animal Life, The Hubby | Comments Off on I swear this is true…
Thundering Dogs
Monday, June 23rd, 2008
Why is it that some dogs are so afraid of thunder? At this moment, there is rumblings of thunder going on. It’s been like this for a week. Every night, there is thunder. Sometimes there is rain and lightning too, but there is always thunder.
And our big, mean, vicious, protective guard dog turns into a wuss. He tries to jump in our laps (very inconvenient when one has a laptop on one’s lap!), snuggle his way into the crevice between us and the couch, and generally whines and is miserable. The only thing that makes it halfway tolerable for him is to hide under the bed. Which he won’t do if no one is actually on the bed!
Chewie – on a happier, sunnier day
So last week while Hubby was playing his video game and Chewie was going nuts trying to get on his lap, I went into the bedroom, caught up on some shows and he was happy to be under the bed, in a safe place (Chewie, that is… Hubby was happy to be playing his game in the tv room… silly person, you can’t play video games under the bed!)
Now it is rumbling again and Chewie is trying to get into my lap. Hubby is out to dinner with one of his work guys. So off to the bedroom I go!
I used to have a dog named Clyde when I was in eighth grade. I say he was my dog, but my mom bought him. I remember distinctly that I got picked up from Mr. Ryan’s class before the end of a school day (a very rare occurrence!) so my mom could pick up “her dog”. I, of course, have no memory of where we went to pick him up, but I sure to remember getting picked up myself.
I don’t know if it was love at first sight or not. But somehow he ended up being my dog. He was a big black lab – I don’t think he was ever small! We must have gotten him as a full grown dog – I don’t remember really having to train him or ever changing sizes – he was always big!
At that point, I had a room to myself. I had a bunk bed that I had both sections on the floor – so there was no top bunk or bottom bunk. I took one corner of my room and put either bunk bed there so it created a box. To get into the middle, you had to go over a bed. I slept in either bed – it never mattered to me. Clyde slept in my room – either on the spare bed or on some blankets on the floor in the “box” and I was the one to walk him in the morning.
As I mentioned in an earlier post, the house I grew up in is very old. At this point in time, the front door was not working well. Opening it was not the problem – keeping it from opening was! The latch had pretty much worn away in the door jam and it wouldn’t catch. So every once in a while, I would wake up and Clyde would be gone. I’d go down the stairs, and there was the front door, wide open. I’d be in my night gown, no slippers or shoes (I’m sure my mother was thrilled about that!) looking for Clyde. I would find him, usually pretty close by. But there were several times I had to run down the street to the stop sign. There Clyde would be, in front of the 18 wheeler truck driver who lived up the street. He’d be barking and barking and not letting the poor guy get through the intersection.
Big, brave dog, huh? Unless, of course, it was … raining, thundering or lightning! That dog was huge (I’m sure you all have a good idea of how big labs get!) and the only thing he wanted to do was jump in my little twin bunk bed with me – right next to me – and whine in my ears.
But not all dogs are bothered by it. Pansy is acting all normal… no worries for her. So – what’s the deal? Anyone know why some dogs get so wound up and others don’t?
Posted in Animal Life, when I was a kid | Comments Off on Thundering Dogs
Cats and Dogs
Saturday, June 21st, 2008
I have a favorite website (actually, it’s two of them) – www.stuffonmycat.com and www.stuffonmymutt.com.
Submitters send in pictures of either their cats or dogs with “stuff” on them. The first site created was the cat one. My understanding is that you were literally supposed to put “stuff” on you cat – “stacks” in the correct lingo. You can find pictures of cats with remotes, toy soldiers, pez dispensers, coins, bottle tops, you name it, all “stacked” on them. They are a bit lax and will take pictures with other critters or in costumes. They are generally submitted with captions, and the cat’s (or cats’) names.
After success with the cat site, they introduced the mutt site, using the same principals for pictures.
I have been itching to get either our cat or our dogs onto the site, but whenever they are doing something that is maybe “postable” – my camera is either two rooms away or if I moved, they would stop doing whatever they were doing and follow me.
I should just get the camera out and try to “force” them to sit still for pictures, but I don’t see that being very productive. If you have ever visited www.dooce.com, she has her “Daily Chuck” photo where she makes her puppy Chuck (and now the new dog Coco) wait for a “scooby snack” while she snaps a picture of some cute setup. I can’t tell if I just don’t have that much patience or if I think my puppies don’t!
I try to look at the site once every couple of weeks. That gives me a ton of pictures to look at and go “I could do that!”. Of course, I still haven’t!
Posted in Animal Life | Comments Off on Cats and Dogs
Cow Alert!
Wednesday, May 7th, 2008
Folks, we are operating under a Cow Alert today. Please check your surroundings for any wayward cows that might be about. Do not, I repeat, DO NOT allow your cattle dogs to roam free for long periods of time.
Seriously, this is the weirdest thing. Ok, maybe not the most weirdest, there might be other things that are weirder, but this was REALLY weird.
We came home last night about 9:30. It was dark (that is not the weird part – we expected that!). We drive down the driveway, and right about where we get to our lawn there is something in the middle of the driveway. Now, we have seen neighbor’s dogs around, we have seen the occasional fox, and of course we have seen deer leap through the air and perform all sorts miracles while we desperately brake in order to not hit these hard hitting, window smashing, strong legged animals and end up either with a dead deer on our hood or a deer (dead or alive) through the windshield and in our lap.
But we have never, and I mean NEVER, seen a cow in our driveway, just standing there like it was supposed to be there. It was weird – it was freaky – it was bizarre.
Hubby went out to “catch” it. It had it’s headgear on (I forget – is it a bridle? or a halter?) and I could see a piece of rope hanging off of it. I honestly can’t remember if the cow ran or walked away – but suddenly it was not there. We pulled down to the end of the driveway – I now had The Boy’s cell phone (I had turned mine off due to low battery) and was calling my mommy.
Now, that may sound sad and pathetic – girl sees cow in driveway, first instinct is to call her mommy. Let’s put this in perspective. We live in a rural area. My family has ALWAYS lived in this town – for the past 200 YEARS. They helped build and shape this town. They owned lots of land (how do think I’m lucky enough to live behind my parents?) They were FARMERS. My parents were in the 4H. They actually ran a 4H club when my brothers were about 5 or 6 (I was about 1 or 2). So, in my mind, I am calling an EXPERT who just happens to be my mommy.
Plus, she lives behind me and we think the cow is headed her way. If I was her, I might want to know there was a WILD COW headed my way. But hey, that’s just me.
So she starts asking me questions – what kind of cow? “A calf, really, not a full grown cow.” What kind of cow – beef or dairy? “I didn’t get to ask.” What color was it? “White and red? Maybe white and brown.” What – “hey, why do you think I’m calling you – I’m not a cowgirl! You’re supposed to know what to do. The cow is headed into YOUR backyard.”
So we hang up, go find a flashlight, ignore the barking dogs, and go into the field between our house and mom’s house. We hear the cow as she meanders through the field. We see mom’s flashlight for a bit and then she goes back into the house. When we get back in, The Boy says “Grandma called. She said to leave the cow alone and don’t let the dogs run loose tonight.”
So, we are on high cow alert in case she comes back. No Chewie the Australian Cattle dog is allowed to roam freely to herd up the scared cow. Today, anyway.
Posted in Animal Life | Comments Off on Cow Alert!
A Full Night’s Sleep
Friday, March 7th, 2008
I’ve finally had a full night’s sleep. After 3 or 4 weeks of getting up anywhere between 3:30 and 4:30, I finally had a night where I was able to sleep through the night uninterrupted.
The usual source of my sleep disruption is my dog. We have two of them – Chewie and Pansy. Chewie is really Hubby’s dog; Pansy is mine. Chewie is about 8 years old now – an Australian Cattle Dog. He’s very protective and fierce and scary looking to anyone who hasn’t seen a silver haired dog! He’s not particularly big like a lab, but he has muscle and will run like anything, especially after squirrels and rabbits.
Pansy is a dog we (I) adopted two summers ago. I have no idea what got into me – I am not really a dog person. My theory is you are either a dog person or a cat person – and I was totally convinced I was a cat person. That summer I had some overpowering need to have a dog. I really did not want to spend hundreds and hundreds of dollars on some dog at a store, so I started going to all the pounds around me. Hubby said I was in charge of the search – he didn’t want to go to shelters and see all the dogs waiting for new homes or death, which ever came first. So I went online to www.petfinders.com and looked and looked and looked. There were several that I called about, but had “just missed”. I saw Pansy listed in a shelter that rescued dogs from the south – where they routinely put dogs down after a few weeks.
The Boy had been interested in getting a dog and put his two cents in for a beagle. Now, all I had heard about beagles was the braying they were famous (or infamous) for. I was not too keen on more noise in the house, so I wasn’t too sure about that. Pansy fit the bill – she was part beagle and part pointer. So we went to see her – me and The Boy. She warmed right up to The Boy and basically ignored me.
As part of the adoption process, everyone in the family had to meet Pansy and get along – that included Chewie. So I had to bring Hubby and Chewie to meet Pansy.
That was an interesting experience. Since we have Chewie trained pretty much as a guard dog, he is very protective and loud. The trainer at the shelter took Chewie by the leach and walked around him, going behind him. The growl that came out of him when she brushed his tail was low and guttural, but he stood still and let her complete her walk around. She said something to the effect of she was impressed that he didn’t bite at her and that we had not put up a fuss about her actions. I was pretty much figuring if she was stupid enough to walk up behind a strange dog, she deserved whatever she got! Anyway, we got the two dogs together in a “neutral” area – somewhere Pansy had not been on the property and obviously Chewie had never been there either. So neither of them “owned” that space. They sniffed each other, with Chewie especially interested in her butt (no surprise there!). Then they went on their separate ways… no biting, no growling, no tension. So all went well and we ended up bringing Pansy home the next day.
As a shelter dog, house training was not her strong suit. The first week was horrible – the whining from the crate, the constant battle to get her out before her bodily fluids got out, and the constant peril our belongings suffered from the threat of being chewed up. We got her settled into a routine, but every now and then she would get in the basement and use the concrete floor as her spot to pee or poop. We had to start closing the door to the basement, and that seemed to clear up.
We kept her in a crate at night until just recently. She never complains about being in the crate… she likes to snuggle up in it. But the crate takes up this huge amount of space – there is just no good place for it. We finally ended up putting it in front of our front door. It is a double door, so we put it in front of the door that does not open. Unfortunately that also puts it in front of our closet door, which we actually do use. So, it was a big inconvenience and a pain in the butt. I finally decided to get her out of the crate at night. The big problem is … she is convinced that she is a lap dog. She jumps on the bed and snuggles with me. I generally don’t have a problem that, but I do enjoy being able to move in my own bed when I am sleeping. So, I took a small leash and attached it to my bedframe. I put her bedding from the crate on the floor and now that is her bed. It works great – no more crate and she still can’t jump on the bed with me.
Unfortunately, I am a very light sleeper. Everytime she gets up I wake up. Then she lets out a little soft whine, just enough for me to hear (and not Hubby). I get up, take her out, and I have to give her credit, she almost always pees and/or poops. Then, back in we go… her to her bed and me to mine. But, alas, I am now awake…. and sleep eludes me. For an hour … for two… until it is just about 6 am – time to get up.
But last night, I heard no whine. For the first time in a very long time, I got 6.5 hours of sleep IN A ROW.
My body was so unaccustomed to it, I think this morning’s headache is a direct result of its’ confusion.
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