Feeding My Soul Week - Our Thanksgiving Feast!

Since we were at the Cowboys game on Thursday, we pushed our Thanksgiving feast to Saturday!  Matt was in charge of the turkey, the headliner for the feast, while T and I made side dishes.  Deviled eggs were made early for grazing while the real cooking magic started.  We made cranberry sauce from scratch from a recipe we acquired from a retired Texas schoolteacher - can't go wrong there! Next, we made our traditional sweet potato casserole, which is truthfully more of a dessert.  We followed that with a green bean casserole, which while not fancy, is a must have.  This summer, Matt's mom finally handed down to T, her sister's long-awaited recipe for Bacon-Corn.  This is an uber-decadent recipe for corn cooked with truly law-breaking amounts of butter, sugar and bacon.  We finished it all off with macaroni and cheese, stuffing and pumpkin pies.

The Headliner!

Almost done...

We each sat with our well-earned  plates by the fire and gave thanks for the things that matter - family and health, our strong pack.  The pups shared in the feast, each with a third of the enormous turkey neck and some gizzards.  With their sensitive snooters I can only imagine how alluring the kitchen must have seemed.  It was only fair that they share in the feast!

Arwen's Pack Thanksgiving feast - canine edition  

This was the first of my consecutive vacation days, spent with the people and dogs that matter the most.  And although we cleaned as we cooked, I was in no rush to clean a single dish.  But now several days later, and many leftover turkey sandwiches later, I never want to eat turkey again.  Maybe next year we can continue the Maine tradition of Thanksgiving lobster, ordered from our favorite wicked good lobster purveyor, the Lobster Pound in Portland...

Tom the...Lobster?

Please don't forget, we're in the last week of collecting items for the Military Dogs and their handlers in Kabul for the holiday care packages.  If you'd like to send some cheer along, please see my post here.

Level 5? Nah....

As most of you know, Nyxie is a very protective girl.  When there is a stranger nearby, or a door is knocked, she’s the first to alert about danger.  And in her strict, militant German Shepherd mind, danger lurks everywhere!  We understand this about her and each day brings new opportunities to separate high alert, Level 5 dangers from minimal, Level 1 & 2 dangers.  The poor girl used to respond to all perceived threats with a Level 5 reaction, sending every one of us climbing the walls in surprise.  There’s nothing quite like the alarm bark of a large GSD to send you leaping into the air just as you were drifting off to sleep for a nap on the couch.  Thankfully, the new calm, assertive approach is paying off.  Consistency is key!

 

The girls are fed raw, and we feed them in turns.  First Arwen eats while Nyxie waits patiently in her crate.  When Arwen is done, which is uber-fast, Nyxie Noodle has her turn in the kitchen for dinner.  She gets so excited, she drools waiting for her bowl to be set down.  It’s positively adorable. 

Several days ago, we decided to order pizza for dinner.  As luck would have it, the doorbell rang just as Nyxie was leaning over her bowl to sink her chompers into her chicken.  Can you imagine what happened next, Gentle Readers?

A split second decision was made by my highly protective dog.  Nyxie came flying around the corner towards the front door, chicken thigh in her mouth.  She was growling, but not barking.  Clearly the level 5 threat of another day is merely a Level 0.5 when chicken is involved. 

Rationalizations. 

My dog is a genius!

Part III - The Homecoming

The ongoing challenge was to find just the right name.  I was leaning towards Olivia, but Matt just didn't like that name.  We were at an impasse.

As we drove towards home, me with one eye on the road and the other on the small, curious, silky black pup on Matt's lap.  She watched us with wonder.  I was painfully aware that this would be a tremendous transition for her.  What a turn of events for her short life!  Sometimes the sap in me thinks about the separation between litter-mates and mother.  Maybe mom is done with mothering. Tired of being tugged and climbed over.  Tired of licking and minding and herding each wriggling pup.  Maybe a part of her is relieved to have them go, but I can't help but think there's a shade of sadness in each goodbye.  The pup is almost certainly inconsolable the first night away.  Poor lost pup.  I was determined to keep this little sprout busy so she'd sleep peacefully through her first night with us.

The day was bright and sunny, and the melting snow made the roads glisten.  We decided to stop at The Christmas Tree Shops and Pet Quarters to get a couple of last minute supplies on the way home.  As we cruised along, Little Black Pup climbed into the folded  softness of Matt's jacket.  The jacket had been placed on the truck's console, between the two seats.  No sooner had she settled in, that she fell into a deep sleep.  Her morning must've been a long one.  Attending to the usual puppy business and then a bath before meeting these strange new people that couldn't take their eyes off of her.  I know puppies snooze at the drop of a hat, but I took it as a good omen.  You wouldn't fall asleep around creepy strangers, would you?

We needed some new bowls for her raw feeding, and a new bed.  I'm not entirely sure why we didn't have these things before bringing her home.  And I'm not sure why she'd need large dog bed right away as we both knew she'd be sleeping with us...I think we were both putting off the meeting with Arwen and Raven.  Dreading it, even.

I stayed in the car as Matt bought what we needed.  I stared at the sleeping pup.  Her eyes were shut and her body curled tightly, her breath came evenly.  Her tiny puppy chest rose and fell with each new breath.  She stirred when he returned with our goodies and we knew the inevitable could be put off no longer.  I started feeling sorry for the Little Black Pup (LBP), having to meet two unknown resident dogs who would ultimately decide her canine status.  I started feeling protective of her, that soft skin and tender belly.  Those flappy little ears.  Although I hoped for the best, I was worried.

I carried her up the 3 flights of stairs, her eyes wide.  More new smells.  Our apartment was strange, as are most made from older divided properties in New England.  It was a large home, divided into 3 separate apartments, one on each level.  Opening the back door to our apartment on the 3rd level, you were faced with yet another set of steep steps that would bring you directly up to the hallway of our apartment (there wasn't a door, or a gate that would stop you from tumbling to a horrible death).  We had set up a doggie gate at the top, in anticipation of her arrival.

Matt took LBP and held her in the spare bedroom.  I was tasked with opening the girls' crates.  We held our collective breath.  The girls raced in to find the source of the new scent.  Matt held her tentatively so they could smell her.  Raven took a few sniffs and walked away.  She showed initial curiosity, but then gave the appearance of losing interest, choosing instead to smell the rest of the room.  Arwen was the one we were really concerned with.  Would she accept this new baby dog into her our pack?  Would we be visiting the vet today?  Would LBP go limp and collapse like a fainting goat under the pressure?!

Arwen sniffed her in earnest, eyes wide.  She sniffed her ears, her eyes, her snout, her soft little body, and of course her tiny poop chute.  No inch of her was left unsniffed.  She would not leave her alone.  I considered the possibility that my predator dog was trying to initiate a chase by following her so closely with that snoot of hers.  LBP almost seemed annoyed.   Nervous, excited, and annoyed.  Arwen was unfaltering.  She followed her around,  and then finally did a play bow.  Exhale.

The next few hours followed with the usual dog playtime, Nyxie decided that she preferred soft, round toys.  Toys she could chomp and squeak.  Arwen mouthed at her, pushed her, prodded her, sniffed her.  Certainly in her eyes, we'd brought home a wonderful offering - one fit for a queen.  When it was feeding time, we set down her shiny new bowls and placed in it a raw chicken neck.  LBP was ravenous and it disappeared into what was later referred to as her "chicken hole".  We joked that she was quite the little chicken hawk...
Another was set down, and again, it disappeared as though by magic.

We finally settled on a name for LBP.  We named her after a beautiful black (purple really) dragon from World of Warcraft, the same game we were playing the night before.  Onyxia, shortened to Nyxie, or at that point, Baby Nyx.

Against all the conventional wisdom that says you should crate train your pup from the 1st night, I thought of an alternate strategy.  I leashed her, attached the other end to my wrist, and we let her sleep on the bed.  I could feel her stir and get up if she needed to relieve herself, but she was not allowed free reign to soil the carpet.  I'm a light sleeper, so this strategy worked safely.  She quickly learned to whine if the urge struck her in the middle of the night.

So after a long voyage with strangers at the helm, after meeting and playing with her new sisters, and after eating her usual dinner, this time from shiny new bowls, Nyxie fell asleep.  She slept deeply, drawing each breath into her tiny body.  Content, she stretched her body lengthwise as puppies do, her body pressed against mine.  I watched her chest rise and fall and knew that her tiny little puppy heart already held mine utterly.

To be continued...

Happy Birthday, Nyxie! Part II - The Pickup

While sitting down to write the 2nd installment of Nyxie's coming home story, I realized that I had alot to share.  It was a busy, emotional time for our family and one that brings back a ton of memories.  So I'm breaking up the story into a few more manageable parts.  This post is really about her Gotcha Day (March 24, 2007), but I couldn't wait that long to start Part II.  It's a bit different from my normal blog, but I hope you'll enjoy it nonetheless.  Maybe I have the makings of something else entirely here....please let me know what you think  

As you can probably imagine, I was a mess for the rest of that night.  All I could think about was that sweet little puppy and the mischief and joy she'd bring with her.  Would the girls get along with her?  Arwen had never liked any other dogs so we were sure our integration challenge would start with her.  What if we couldn't transition Arwen and Raven over to raw food?  Would the sleeping arrangements work?  Would she potty train easily?  I wanted to get it all right - without any mistakes.  I wanted to be the Victoria Stilwell / Cesar Millan dog-mom of my dreams.  I thought of the puppy breath, the soft ears, the floppy paws and knobby knees.  I was filled with hope and anticipation for the privilege of raising this new, tiny life.

Needless to say, I couldn't play World of Warcraft very effectively and ended up showing everybody Nyxie's  litter pics from the Timber Ridge website.  My friend Sandy, and the only other dog fanatic in the room, confessed that she and her husband, Roland might be adding a new Golden into their pack.  Sandy is one of those wonderful caretakers that truly adores her 2 Goldens, Hannah and Hailey like children.  And soon after, Parker, was welcomed home.

Through all this, Matt tried to tease me about the new puppy, presenting a manly facade to the other guys.  Secretly, though, I knew better.  Finding this perfect pup was a dream come true.  And a chance to start healing some old wounds of loss - both past and future.  He announced that we had to leave early as we had an early start the next day and we said our goodbyes.

On the drive home, we were almost giddy despite the falling sleet.  We talked about training, and introductions, and of hope.  I must've said, "I can't wait until tomorrow" about a hundred times.  And when we got home, I was like a child trying to sleep on Christmas Eve, my heart was pounding.  I tossed and turned.  

The next morning was met with cleaning and puppy-proofing.  We planned our introduction to happen in the spare bedroom, T's bedroom when she would visit us.  It was a neutral place as we rarely let the dogs in there even when she was home.  Time passed sloooooowly.....

It was finally time to pick up our new family member.  We drove to Saco, a town about 20 minutes south of us.  I could scarcely sit still.  As we'd been to the main house previously, we were allowed entry by her pack of gorgeous shepherds.  We rang the bell and Doreen brought out the tiny black pup, wide eyed and curious.  She'd made good on her promise to bathe her, to wash away the brown earth from her fur.  She was shiny, silky and the deepest black of sparkling onyx.  Her brown almond eyes looked questioningly at us as Doreen handed her over.  She sniffed us thoroughly - we smelled nothing like the rich earth, stables and the hay, the smells of Maine.  We smelled of different dogs, of the city and of coffee.

The Matt with then long hair and tiny Nyxie.  Day 1

I can't remember who held her first that day, but I suspect Matt let me hold her, as we'd decided she would ride in his lap while I drove home.  We have this theory that whoever rides home holding the new pup or kitten becomes the tiny creature's favorite.  At least that's what we'd experienced with rescue in the past.  Doreen gave us a wonderful book called Natural Nutrition for Dogs and Cats, The Ultimate Diet  by Kymythy R. Schultze, the pup's AKC paperwork and informational folder, and a large tupperware container full of raw chicken necks.  She also explained to us that our new pup could be returned to her at any point in her life if the need arose.  Her pups were always welcomed home.  What a wonderful testament to the faith she has in her dogs!

And with that, Genie Z Timber Ridge, with ear tattoo # 7TR05, became the newest member of Arwen's Pack.

Part III, The Homecoming to be continued...