Our Old Soul Puppy

Fenway is balanced.  I’ve never met such a calm and relaxed puppy.  Dog lovers will understand what I mean when I say he rarely pants or keeps his mouth open.  There is no out of control chomping, finger-biting, or drooling.  He does a great deal of observing, sitting perfectly still with his mouth closed, brow furrowed and eyes intent.  What kind of old soul dog is this?

I love my two girls dearly.  They make me sublimely happy with what they do and how they love us.  They are mostly obedient and well-mannered (except around other dogs) and are predictable in their needs.  Before Fenway, I’ll admit, I was letting the discipline and consistency slack a bit.  I was becoming complacent in my dog skills.  His arrival has meant keeping a keener eye on the dogs.  He's a dream; it’s the girls I have to watch vigilantly for rough play, nervous energy and predatory behaviors.  All these behaviors require correction and a chance to “get it right” again. 

Fenway will sit and watch the girls and us, deep dark eyes taking it all in under a furrowed brow.  He very rarely needs behavioral corrections, and when given, they are followed and learned almost immediately.  It’s as though he’s thankful to have been rescued, although I know he can’t understand that.  Can he?

Some spiritual beliefs involve people having a few chances at life – “a do over”, so to speak.  Those that have been through a few earlier versions of oneself and have innate knowledge, peace and understanding are called “old souls”.  I can’t be sure, but I believe Fenway is one of these old soul dogs.  He’s brought tranquility and balance to our pack.  All change comes from some chaos, though, and this integration has been no exception.  But we’re almost on the other side of the change.  Nyxie’s gained a playmate for her abundant energy and can finally share her toys with somedog that can appreciate them.  Arwen is still trying to figure him out; he’s not taking her as seriously and dramatically as other weaker dogs do.  Maybe she’ll learn humility. 

I’ve learned from Fenway that having a dog does not mean more work and more stress.  In fact, being near him, with his warm little body pressed against me in a doggie snooze, is calming.  His energy soothes me.  His Zen way of being is just beautiful.  We are a lucky pack, indeed.

What a happy sundog!

When In Doubt, Just Cuddle

He cuddles.  Fenway likes to snuggle in and be warm and cozy.  He's showing some genetic Pibble with all this cuddle-puddle behavior.  I'm not sure if it's a safety tactic to keep away from the less than welcome ladies in the house, or maybe he's just chilly.  I just like to think of him as a cuddle bug.

The girls snuggle a bit with us - Arwen enjoys a nice upside down belly rub and will stay in close proximity to me at all times, but a good long cuddle is simply too much heat for her, I suspect.  Nyxie like to snuggle into Matt's pillow when it's just the 2 of us.  She'll press her nose against me and steal my warmth, facing me on his pillow, her body pressed against me.

 

To say they've accepted Fenway is a bit of a generous stretch.  "Getting familiar with his presence and not actively trying to kill him all the time" might be a more accurate assessment.  Fenway is an "old soul" dog - one that seems to understand things that he shouldn't already know.  Aside from a perpetually worried look on his face, he's the embodiment of zen.  I suppose I'd be perpetually worried as a newcomer around these 2 myself...

We're taking one day at a time here, working it all out.  We're giving time to each, while letting them know how much they're loved.  Change can be tough, but cuddling comes easy.  

And Then There Were Three...Arwen's Pack Has Grown!

We needed another dog like we needed a hole in the head. But just when you think you've got it all sorted out and it's coming together, life decides you need a bit of a shake. Not the creamy delicious kind, but the hard "Holy Cow! What was THAT for!?" kind of shake.

This past weekend, Matt was outside just after midnight when he heard some nearby wimpering. Turning to listen closely (whether by instinct or simple curiosity), he saw a small brown dog come bounding over, all whines and ears back. The little pup just sat at his feet staring up at him. Well what the hell do you do at that point?! After a choice HBO word, knowing full well what was in store, he reached down and comforted this lost creature. I know this because just moments later the bedroom light flooded over my sleeping self and I was told to come downstairs and see something "cute, furry, lost and terrible".

With the same choice HBO word, I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and threw off the covers. "Terrible" is right - we couldn't bring this puppy into the house. What if it had distemper or parvo? We'd just seen a case of parvo not a week ago at the clinic. All these thoughts were put on hold as I opened the door and looked down the stairs. There, a whining, simpering, doe-eyed puppy looked up at me and melted my heart.

We looked him over and found gum in his dirty fur, his skin loose over visible ribs. Poor kid - was he in this condition and just ran away recently? Was he abandoned by somebody? Stairs were completely foreign to him and every house around us has 2 stories. "Inside" seemed to be another totally foreign concept. He was wearing a collar without tags and when we scanned him later, we discovered he had no microchip either.

We put a leash on him and walked around the buildings, hoping to reunite him with his owners. Nobody was out looking, the streets were empty. More HBO words....what now?

Plan B involved taking him to the clinic where I work and checking him over for parasites, a microchip, and some clue as to his age. We had to wake up T at 12:30 in the morning to keep her from being home alone. Upon seeing the foundling, her eyes lit up like diamonds. She was in love!

At the clinic, we checked him for parasites and he was badly infested with hookworms. Yuk. Those could kill a pup! I dewormed him and left him there; safe for the night.

Against all of our better judgement (except T because she's in love), we've decided to keep him. So maybe the "shake" I mentioned we got earlier is sweet, but still a shake in the other sense as well!
But bloggie friends, I need some help with 2 issues:

1) We are considering the name "Fenway" after Fenway Park, of course. We're 2nd generation Red Sox (and T will make the 3rd gen) fans, so it seems fitting. Any other suggestions?

2) The girls aren't impressed. Arwen is trying unsuccessfully to dominate him with her usual bullying tactics and Nyxie is afraid of him all scared growls. Yup, my 80 lb GSD is terrified of a 26 lb muttling who won't get bigger than 30-40 lbs! Poor girl...There has been some snapping at one another, and integrating isn't going as smoothly as I 'd hoped. He has great calm energy. Any ideas or help?

Thank you, Loves!
FYI - interwebs are acting funny so pls be patient with me. I had to write this post from my phone!

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Oz

It's puppy season again.  That spectacular time of the year when all fuzzy goodness comes bounding awkwardly through our front doors.  At the hospital, we're starting to see all the new puppies brought in for their first vet visits and vaccines.  Some come from shelters, others from breeders, but they're all adorable.  And their new parents are full of joy.  And questions.

The routine is the same for each visit.  I usher the parents back to the scale for a weight check, they hold their squirming puppy on the scale and then they giggle as they watch their Fuzzy Wonder navigate into the exam room.  As soon as I hear the click of that door behind us, I exhale.  I know what's coming - the Questions.  I have been asked questions about nutrition, potty-training, crate-training, chewing, teething, baldness, bodily excretions, itching, ears, nail-trimming, wet vs dry noses...  The list goes on and on.

I've been a vet tech (although I prefer "vet nurse" as it more accurately describes what we do) for almost 7 years, and I've heard ALOT of questions.  Some are more surprising than others, some I've had to research the answer for, but I love each and every question.  The more questions, the more involved the parents seem as they welcome home their new puppy.  I love those parents that have done the research long before adopting or buying that special puppy the most.  They can tell me all about training, and their puppy's breed disposition, but are wanting to confirm what they've learned.  They're invested in doing the right thing behaviorally, medically, and emotionally.  And they want to truly partner with their vet team to do what's best.

The parents that scare me the most are those that have no questions and are very quiet throughout the exam.  I'm always wondering if they're really ready for the onslaught that this little Bundle of Joy is about to unleash on them.  I know I wasn't prepared when I brought home my first puppy.  In retrospect, I wish I had kept my veterinary tech and vet in that exam room for at least another 45 minutes!

The ones that really terrify me are the ones that seem truly disinterested in their puppy.  The man who seems irritated to be there, whose wife bought the kids a dog of a breed he would never want.  These are the puppies I want to spirit out the back door into the arms of the nearest stranger because they might get a better chance at life.  In these cases, I find myself praising the puppy endlessly, and trying in the short visit to teach a few basic commands like "sit" and "down".  Maybe if he sees me do it, he'll find some merit in the pup.  Maybe.

The majority of the puppies that come through our doors are lucky.  There will be insurance provided for them, daily cookies and walkies, and trips to the dog park.  Life will be good.  The hope in the eyes of each parent and puppy's eyes is palpable.  It's the promise of new life brought into our homes in the season of blossoms and green grass.  Fertility, infancy, renewal.  

For those lucky parents that are opening their doors to new puppies for the first time, and to all the hope they bring, I salute you!  The world of dogs is a magical, joyful, slobber-filled Oz.  So for now on, when I close that door to the exam room, I think I'll just turn to the new parents and say,

"Welcome to Oz.  We have cookies!"

Bone Dog Pups

More shameless promotion of the Etsy store...
I finally made something dog-related!  I was asked to make one of my bone charm dolls for a friend (shhh...I'm not sure if it's a secret, so I'm not going to link the finished doll here yet).  I'm so thankful to have been given the opportunity to make something special, AND for giving me this new concept!

Bone Dog Pups!  These pups are made from up-cycled, cleaned and bleached chicken or turkey bones and then I added Arwen or Nyxie fur to finish the pups!  Finally - a use for all that blown coat!  The little guys have beaded leashes and collars. Yes, there is actually a beaded collar with a wire buckle under all that fuzz!  Each dog will be unique, like your unique pup - with all your dog's individual details.  You can see more pics at the store here

Here's a sample:

The Paw

The other day, a client called and wanted to discuss her dog's paws.  She was concerned that her older Lab had begun sliding on the hardwood floors in their home.  She asked me if older dogs develop problems with their paw pads.  Her dog was starting to show signs of aging and our doctor had recently prescribed for her some non-steroidal anti-inflammatory meds to help with the pain of arthritis.  I explained to her that the sliding was most likely attributed to the arthritis and the meds should help soon.  I suggested to her that some conveniently placed accent rugs, and short toenails could help, too.

Since this phone conversation, I've been thinking about paws.

Yup.  Paws.

They come in all shapes and sizes.  Different stages of wear - some smooth, some rough.  Whenever I meet a puppy, I'm always drawn to those magical, little, soft paw pads.  I just want to feel the soft newness of those stumpy little digits.  There's just something about paws.

Most dogs are sensitive about people touching their paws.  Common knowledge tells us to manipulate a puppy's paws often.  In this way, paws can be easily touched throughout the dog's lifetime.  Even so, most dogs pull away repeatedly during nail trims, if they permit us to touch them at all.  I've never been able to trim nails on a non-anesthetized patient by myself.  It's truly a 2 person job (unless it's my own girls - then it just takes time and lots of treats - LOTS of treats).  I think dogs understand the power of the paw - the importance of those delicate digits.

The paws and their pads take dogs wherever that nose leads.  Without those paws, they can't experience the beauty and greatness in the universe.  A lame dog seems usually to be a sad dog.  Not to say that dogs with limited mobility or those with three legs aren't happy.  Some of these seem to be the happiest dogs of all - they had a brush with the loss of mobility, but have rebounded!  A second lease on life.  Dogs need to move, travel, receive stimuli, intake, experience.

Maybe this is the magic of the paw.  Humans and dogs are linked on such a primitive level.  We started this journey as co-wanderers.  Companions of a sort.  A partnership that solidified at the campfire, the resting place.  It seems natural that we, too, should value travel and experience.  And it all comes down to that companionship.  That camaraderie.  That bond.  

I respect The Paw.  It's power is in its limitless, extraordinary freedom!

Part V - Growing Up

Nyxie's awkward puppyhood seemed to be zooming past me at break-neck speed.  There were days that I'd look at her adoringly in the morning, then by evening, she'd look older.  I loved seeing her develop, but I also realized how much I was starting to miss that fat-bellied little pup who first came home with us.  She was becoming more agile, more able, even graceful.

Nyxie Noodle (One of our silly names for her - an offshoot of Noodle Cart Nyxie - don't ask, we're not really sure.) never had that super lanky, noodly GSD look, though.  And her ears stood pretty quickly on their own.  As she grew, she looked like a tiny version of what I see today.  A mini German Shepherd with fairly even proportions.  This was something we were surprised by after watching so many other GSD puppies go through the long legged, ears falling into themselves and every which way stage.  Unmistakable adolescence - you can see it a mile away.  We've been told this was due to her diet.  The raw diet being more appropriate for a dog, so therefore the stages of growth were more even.  Maybe this is a myth, but we saw it in action.  Her head, especially those enormous ears, and her paws were the things that stood out and gave us a hint as to her future stature.

In an effort to socialize this growing girl, and blow off puppy energy with zoomies, my friend Jamie and I had weekly play-dates with our pups at one of the Portland dog parks.  She would bring her delicate (but speedy) little Italian Greyhound, Vinnie.  And I would bring my clumsy little pup, eager for playtime in the grass rather than on pavement.  They were about the same size, and when Nyxie's excitement would get too much for Vinnie, he would let baby Nyx know in no uncertain terms.  Puppy Lesson # 3681 learned.  "THAT was too much bitey-mouth..."

Another good friend, Heather would occasionally bring along her Springer Spaniel, Napoleon, to these play-dates.  Poor Vinnie now had 2 wacky pups to contend with rather than the one.  Mostly, though, the 2 pups would entertain each other in a jumbled ball of puppy energy.  Colliding over and over, toppling clumsily into legs and fur, with tails, teeth and ears flying.  Dog park days were magical - there's nothing more joyful than watching puppies play.

The water bowl was in constant need of refilling.  Nyxie discovered the art of digging and loved the feel of the brown earth on her paws and nose.  We practiced recalls, sits, stays and walking heels off lead.  My little Nyxie blossomed!

Nyxie loved to tear around the wide open spaces and play chase with the other puppies.  If an adult dog chased her, she'd run until they overtook her, then she'd throw herself on her back and scream.  A long recall and a treat would usually snap her out of it.  Back she'd fly, her little puppy legs betraying her and sending her sprawling.  She'd bounce back up, shake it off and bound over to me.   She played well with Vinnie and Napoleon.  As always, she was loyal to her pack.   

On one such dog park trip, Nyxie went to hop back into Jamie's van and into her crate.  Her paw got stuck in the slats at the bottom of the crate door.  

She screamed.  I screamed.

She panicked.  I panicked.

Jamie calmly reached in, pulled her paw back and released her.  I cried like a weenie.  That's when I knew how deeply I was in love.  Like a mother whose child gets hurt for the 1st time, I felt her pain, her fear.  I'd have to learn to toughen up.  Nyxie shrugged it off, lay in her crate and sunk those puppy teeth into a big rubber ladybug that protested loudly with each chomp.

"I'm ok, mom, I've got this ladybug!"

We hadn't left the parking lot before she was fast asleep.  

Part IV - Learning

Back to the Nyxie story...Part IV

Each new day brought new experiences for Nyxie.  Watching a puppy take in the world with fresh eyes, evaluate each human event and convert it into "dog" is amazing.  Each morning, she would sit up, stretch into a lovely downward dog position, tongue curled in a wide open yawn.  Then the kisses started.  Kisses for us and then a shower of them for her sisters.  Nyxie was a reserved pup around people, but every day she became more and more attached.  She made fast friends with Arwen, who was more than willing to have a prodigy.  She schooled her in the morning routine of potty break, breakfast and snuggling.  And Nyxie took it all in, mesmerized by her big sister's wisdom.

When people would see Nyxie, they were stumped. 
"Is that a Lab puppy?"
We heard it all - Lab puppy, Lab mix, chow, wolf, etc.  When we told people that she was a German Shepherd Dog, they'd shake their heads,
"But she's not black and tan..."
Finally, we gave up and started telling people she was a rare breed - an Irish Hellhound.
Somehow, this seemed to satisfy the doubters...

Our 1st walk in bustling Portland was a disaster.  Of course, in retrospect this couldn't have been a worse situation in which to put a country pup.  It had to be absolutely terrifying to Nyxie  - cars, people of all shapes, sizes and colors, bikes, loud noises.  We cut it short after a tiny little girl got loose from her mother and came running at us to pet the cutest dog ever.  Nyxie hid behind me, barking from around my legs at this poor little girl. 

Uh-oh. 

I sought the advice of my wonderful friend Jamie, a dog trainer in training.  She has a brilliant little Italian Greyhound, Vinnie, who can do a huge number of tricks.  They taught me how to teach Nyxie about our world.  I had some idea, as I'd immersed myself into dog training and behavior books for years, but this was my new baby - I was going to be shaping a brand new pup!  I had to do it right.   For her sake, I didn't want her to be fearful of our world.

Jaime worked in a dog boutique called Planet Dog where they held puppy socialization classes each weekend morning, under the watchful eye of the resident dog trainer.  Matt and I agreed this would be a wonderful idea for Baby Nyx.  The puppies were separated into 2 groups.  In the 1st group, there were
 the boisterous, knock you down to play puppies, "there's nothing that scares me" puppies.  The 2nd group was the milder mannered, timid, could play independently, shy puppies.  Nyxie was put in group 2.  We watched the Group 1 puppies zoom and pounce all over each other, leaping off of giant pillows that laid against the pen's edge.  Teeth gnashed, bodies rolled - it was a good time.  Group 2 was a bit more reserved.  The quieter puppies played, too, but more tentatively.  There was definitely more butt-sniffing and chewing of toys in this pen. 

We set Nyxie down and smiled.  How very sweet!  She sniffed around and investigated some other kiddos, played for a few minutes, then started hopping on her hind legs at us.  We stepped back so she could return to playtime and ignore us.  She lunged the gates of the pen.  She started lunging the gate walls with such vigor, that she actually knocked herself back and landed hard.  The gate was having trouble containing her and some of the other parents let out "oh's!" when she jumped.  The trainer told us to come pull out our puppy and give her a time out outdoors.  She suggested a bit of down time, maybe a potty break might help her calm down.  Ouch.  We were mortified. 

At home, Nyxie's positive reinforcement training showed fast results.  She could sit, stay, come, down, and give paw like a champ by 10 weeks.  With or without treats.  This kid was (and still is... usually) brilliant.  Her brain was constantly taking it all in.  She would watch and learn each new task, trick, and job in 2 to 3 trials.  Genius puppy.  I know, I know - I'm a bit biased.  To this day, I have yet to give her a task she can't learn.  Except how to "play well with others".  We knew this would be an ongoing trial.

One of my favorite lessons that Nyxie learned early on occurred during her Piranha Puppy stage.  She mouthed my hands as puppies love to do, and each time she did so, I let out a loud puppy yelp.  To this, she would stop biting and tilt her head, looking at me.  Hand biting stopped after a day or so.  Lesson learned.  Matt thought it was cute that she would nip and play bite.  Personally, I think he secretly felt silly yelping like a puppy.  To this day, she mouths his hands while playing.  If I place my hand over his, she licks the hands.  When I take it away, more bitey hands with him.  Genius Puppy loves her mama.  Genius Puppy has learned the most important lesson of all : Don't bite the hand of the Giver of All Good Things.

Brilliant.

To be continued in Part V - Growing Up...