New Puppy: Day 60

We have survived 2 whole months!  Survived might be a bit dramatic, but there have been moments it feels like the correct phrase.  It's been 8 weeks of cleaning up carpets (and bedding, towels, chair coverings, ect.), constantly picking up toys, training, commands, bruises, little sleep, worrying about bring away from home for more than 6 hours, and the phrase 'no bark' on repeat. It's been 60 days of kisses, smiles, cuddles, and so much love.

Marco and I learned the best way to keep him out of his stitches after surgery was to wear a onsie.  Marco was not impressed, but he also didn't have another vet visit.  I have learned philodendrons have a mysterious draw to little puppies, but are not wholly poisonous (thank the creator).   We have learned strawberries are tasty (and hopefully he doesn't find the ones growing on the deck) but tomatoes are not (at least those plants are safe).  And Patrick has learned to play.

I think that's been the greatest gift.  Watching Patrick instigate a wrestling match, or let Marco chew on the other end of his bone, or tug at the other end of Inchy when Marco jumps up on the bed with the stuffed worm has been heartwarming.  Marco has allowed him to enjoy playing with another dog again and Patrick in turn is showing an incredible amount of patience towards his little brother.  They sleep almost touching on the bed.  Marco can jump up and plop down on part of Patrick's legs and he only looks at him now instead of huffing off.  The kisses are going both ways.

That's not to say we don't have our moments of jealousy.  Patrick is allowed to roam free during the day where Marco needs to be kenneled for his own safety.  When I get home I generally have a happy Patrick to greet me and I spend a few moments giving him some personal attention.  But when I go upstairs and open the crate, Patrick blocks Marco from jumping up to say hello to me.  When I'm cuddling with one of the couch, the other is not too happy they are being left out.  We are finding little ways we can spend a few moments of time together and I know the struggle will lessen.

Even with the downs and mostly ups, we are a happy family of three.  I couldn't have imagined how complete our home would feel adding our newest member, but it feels like it was fated.  We are one little healthy, happy pack!

New Puppy: Day 1

We are officially a family of three!

Marco was altered (such a nice way of putting 'had his testicles surgically removed') on Monday.  Little guy was a champ, I was a wreck.  When Patrick was neutered at 18 months, it did not go so well, so I was bracing for another long road to recovery filled with extra weeks in a collar, not wanting to eat, torn stitches, and lots of worry.  But his foster mom (my aunt) called and said everything went just fine.  He was home and she was trying her hardest to keep him calm, but all he wanted to do was play with his foster sisters (Bell 12 years, and Gabby 8 month).  He didn't seem to be in much pain.  He bounced back from the anesthesia undaunted.  But keeping him calm was going to be a challenge with his two sisters running around playing while he was in his kennel.  Maybe it would be best if I came and got him tomorrow.  He can be quiet at my house where Patrick ignores him when he's in his kennel.   So that was it.  I had spent weeks preparing for his arrival and now we were there.  I was excited and nervous.

After I got home form work yesterday, Patrick and I went for a walk, had dinner, and jumped in the car.  I pulled into the driveway and Marco went nuts with excitement.  Patrick spent a few minutes playing with Gabby and Bell before we loaded up the little guy and set off on our new adventure.

We made it home and the goal of the evening was to relax and spend some quality cuddle time on the couch.  With my aunt being Marco's foster mom, we had a chance to have a few sleep overs so the boys could get to know one another slowly.  We had spent some time cuddling on the couch before, but somehow last night was different.  Patrick senses this is different then the last time Marco was here.  I think he's figured out this is permanent this time.  He was far more clingy than normal.  I sat on the couch and he immediately jumped up and was in between my legs, as close as he could get.  Marco chewed on a bone on the floor for a while and then jumped up and joined us as well.  I was covered in puppies.  It was heaven.

Then we all went up to bed.  Again, we have done this before.  We all co-existed on the bed quite well the last few times Marco has stayed with us.  Last night was completely different.  Marco tried to creep closer to cuddle with Patrick and Patrick was less than thrilled.  Marco tried to get closer to me and Patrick stretched out to keep him off to the side.  Both boys played musical positions all night long until Patrick eventually stretched out along my side with his paws curled around my legs and I stretched a hand out so Marco could lay his head in it.  It was not a very restful night for any of us.  Marco was walking like he was half asleep.  Patrick didn't want to get out of the bed once Marco and I were out of it.  And I have been functioning on pure coffee all day.

It gets better.  I know it does.  They boys like to play.  Marco brings out a side of Patrick I haven't seen in a long time.  Patrick enjoys showing Marco up when I give a command.  There personalities are different and yet complimentary.  I can't wait for the day we are all settled into a routine.  For now it will be extra love to the oldest, and quiet time for the little one.  The next few weeks are going to be long.  I am not going to get much more sleep for a while.  But I have both boys to keep me going.  To make me laugh.  And we have each other to love.  What an adventure this will be!

I might be insane

My baby is almost 6 years old.  He's a sweet, spoiled, loved boy.  We've weathered the storm of gluten allergies, corn intolerance, and picky eating.  We've come out the other side a team.  A momma and her boy.  And we are very content to be this way.  He's happy being an only 'child' and socializing with other puppy friends then coming home to cuddle on the couch.  Just the two of us.  Two peas in a pod.  Used to our routine.  Very happy with the life we've built for each other.  So why rock the boat?

A year and a half ago, he lost his best friend.  Sammi was the first puppy my family ever had.  We lived in apartments my whole life.  We had guinea pigs.  Gerbils.  A rabbit.  But never a dog.  My aunts had dogs.  My uncle had dogs.  My nana had dogs.  But never us.   So when my sister showed up with a 'free' puppy just before her senior year of high school, it was pretty exciting.  Sammi technically didn't live with us at first, but that didn't last long.  Nor did my sister's interest in her puppy.   She quickly became the apple of her gramma's eye.  My mom walked her.  Feed her.  Cuddled with her.  Loved her.  My mom even moved so Sammi could live with us officially.  My sister may have picked the puppy out and given her a name...but Sammi belonged to her gramma.  And  no one argued with that, least of all gramma or Sammi.

Sammi was 8 when I 'obtained' Patrick.  Patrick was about 18 months.  He was loud.  He was rowdy.  He was a lot for a then 8 year old to handle.  But she did.  She put him in his place immediately, and the two became fast friends.  She played with Patrick.  She put up with his nipping, his barking, his need to be the little Napoleon his is.  She taught him how to be a part of our pack.  She was very tolerant to this high strung little thing one of her other alphas brought into her pack.   Sammi was the perfect mentor to my boy.

At the age of 12, Sammi got sick.  A cure was just not in the cards.  And for a few weeks we watched her fade away.  Losing my sweet puppy was as hard on Patrick as it was for me.  The first time we went to my mom's, it was so hard to watch Patrick roam around looking for his friend.  Even harder was knowing I couldn't make him understand.  He moped around for weeks.  I made the decision that it was time to seriously consider expand our family. 

And what a process that has been.  Being a single, working woman with a constantly busy schedule...timing was everything.  I knew I wanted a younger, small to medium sized, male dog.  The photos on the rescue sites are endless.  So were my fears of whether Patrick would accept a new member to our pack.  Even though my mom found a new friend, Patrick was not thrilled with Ami.  She's very hyper, and young, and plays hard.  He's become slowly less social.  Not as friendly to other dogs when we walk.  I knew it would take a special friend to make this work.  And I knew that I had about about a year or so before Patrick's age would make this even more difficult.  This summer was finally the right time to put an honest effort into finding a new friend...And then I met 'Chipmunk'.

Chip has not lived an easy life.  He was saved from certain death along side his brother and sister by a good Samaritan who heard whimpering from a burning pit.   The three little rat terrier/beagle mixes were stranded, starving, and almost on fire.  They guessed they were about 6 weeks old. They had to be separated to find then foster homes, and two of them made the trek from Kentucky to Minnesota.  A few days into his first foster home, it was clear something was not right.  He was rushed to the vet where he was diagnosed with Parvo.  The little guy was even closer to the Rainbow Bridge than when he was rescued.  He was a resilient little rascal.  After being released from tree ICU, he needed a place to go where he could be separated from other animals and everyone was vetted.  In walks my aunt...again.  She had 'Chip' for a week before bringing him to Easter dinner.  She had a hunch he might be just what I was looking for.  Somehow a young, medium male dog turned into a small, male, actual puppy.  He was nothing I was looking for...and then my aunt put him in my arms.  I was done for.

At 10 weeks old, Patrick and 'Chip' met for the first time.  I've never been so nervous.  I was smitten with this little guy, but if Patrick had any problems at all, I would walk away.  As his protector, he's my first concern.  Patrick was curious who this puppy was, but he mostly ignored him.  Until we went on a walk.  We met another dog (usually a dicey meeting). The puppy was more than happy to say hi.  Patrick watched.  Then decided to get closer.  The puppy wondered to smell a tree, and Patrick almost ripped his leash out of my hands to get to him to heard him back.  They even played when we got back in the house.  This crazy puppy idea was actually working.  After that first meeting, I made the decision to make this little guy a part of our family.

'Chipmunk' wasn't going to work.  But Marco will.  And sweet little Marco will be officially joining our family this week.  This transition thankfully has been able to be a little slower than most adoptions.  We've been able to do this in terms both Patrick and Marco have been comfortable with.   Both boys have had a little time to get to know each other.  We've all had time to transition to being a family of 3.  I now have an almost 6 year old Parsons Terrier/boxer and a 12 week old rat terrier/beagle/(we're pretty sure Bassett hound) mix.  For those keeping score, that's a 6 year old smart, high strung with kick of high strung as well as a baby high strung escape artist.  I have clearly lost my mind.  And I'm going to love every minute of it.

Wordless Wednesday

Because every dog needs a kid, and Allie is Patrick's kid.

Things that go BOOM!

Thunderstorms.  Fireworks.  Gun shots.  Loud noises that seemingly come from nowhere.  Noises that can totally freak out our furry friends.  With Patrick I am lucky that none of these (knocking on wood before our second 4^th of July) seem to bother him.  The last big thunderstorm we had, I jumped from one particular loud crack of thunder and he just looked at me.  I think I can live with that.  My last foster dog, Belle, was terrified of thunder.  The storms would start and she would just shake.  She wanted to be as close to you as she could possibly get (without actually climbing on the bed or chair where she was not supposed to be).  And a 35 lbs English Springer Spaniel trying to hide in the smallest space possible doesn’t bode well for the breakable items in the surrounding area.  I did allow her to climb onto the bed one night she was howling so badly.  She shook the bed.  And then did the on and off thing for the rest of the storm. It was not a good night for either of us. I’m not sure either of us slept.

The ‘family’ dog (technically my mom’s) Sammi is a beautiful 90 lbs Chesapeake-German Shepherd-Rottweiler.  Her big phobia is fireworks.  The 4^th of July is not a happy day in our family.  And of course all the people lighting them off several weeks before and after doesn’t help.  She literally will not go outside after dusk until close to midnight for the rest of the summer.  Even fireworks on the TV set her panting.  And let me tell you we have tried many things.  And sometimes meds are really the only way to go.  I used to dog sit for a dog that would shake and pant so hard I seriously thought she was going to hyperventilate or have a heart attack.  It was not pretty.  The pills were the ONLY thing that would calm her down.  But for the most part, none of my dogs have been that severe.  Here’s what we have done:

1)      Noise – drown it out!  With Belle that usually meant her and I would head to the basement and I would turn on the TV.  With Sammi that means shutting the windows and turning on the AC and popping in a movie and turning the volume up.  Play some music.  Anything to reduce the noise outside by increasing the volume inside.  Warning though, after a certain time at night, the neighbors are not crazy about this option.  Though I’m sure it was better than the howling dog.  This is what works the best for us.

2)      Distraction – Great time to play.  Grab the nearest toy and have some fun.  Not only is Sammi getting some attention, but I’m having fun too.  This works well for short term shakes.  If we can play during the 30 mins of fireworks that’s enough for Sammi, but during a long storm, this is not always the best solution.

3)      Positive Reinforcement – similar to distraction, but find a way to turn the problem into a positive.  With Sammi that means Frosty Paws or a bone filled with peanut butter.   Giving her something special to take her mind off the fireworks works great.  Belle would get so into her bone she would actually forget (until a particular loud boom) what was going on outside.  Snuggling on the couch, special toys that only come out during the stress, a long car ride with some great [loud] tunes playing…these are all great ways to make the storm not so scary.  BTW…this also works well with 5 year old little girls, well maybe not the peanut butter bone…

4)      Desensitize – now I have to start off by saying that this did not work for us at all.  Sammi’s anxiety begins the moment she hears a boom, no matter how soft.  Belle had some hearing loss due to prolonged untreated infections, so low was still loud.  But the idea is that if you can introduce the noise in a low volume level and then slowly increase over the course of a few weeks/months, it will desensitize the dog to the noise.  I like the idea though.  Especially when I think that if this was a problem with Patrick, he would be alone at home during at least of a few of the storms.  And then there would literally be nothing I could do.  My only real thoughts on this are it’s a great idea, but I would think you would have to do it every year.  Fireworks are really a midsummer thing, and at least in the Midwest, there is rarely thunder with snow storms.

5)      Pressure/cover – My nana has had 2 dogs that hid.  Duke (Boxer) headed for under the bed.  Dutch (Spaniel-German Shorthair) would go right to his cage.  And that was all they needed.  To be covered.  To be enclosed.  If we could coax Duke out and when I was a little kid, we would sit and hug the puppies.  That was enough to help.  They were both thunder dogs.  And for both of them, I think it was the static and not the noise.  But to be covered (under covers of the bed or just under something) was what they needed.  There are even a few companies out there now who sell the compression vests just for this very idea.  The idea is to make the dog feel secure, however that works for you.

Now again, I am no expert.  I was just once a very frustrated dog owner.  Sammi is 10 and well old habits and what not, but turning the TV up on the 4^th of July is enough to calm her down.  A bone or a Frosty Paw is just an added bonus, but not enough to get to the state where she is not stressing.  Belle was a combination of noise and distraction.  Dutch and Duke it was all about covering.  I am grateful to have these tools and to have tried them, even though I don’t need them right now.  Who knows whose little paws will find their way to my door next?   When my dog is stressed, I am stressed.  And in the end, that not a good thing for either of us.

Wordless Wednesday: This is Patrick's 'I love you mommy' face. It still gets me every time.

Here Goes Nothing

I never thought I would be one of 'those' pet people.  The ones who buy sweaters and booties and make dog treats and buy special food and flash pictures faster than most parents...ok, so I still haven't gotten to the last part yet.  But if you ask, I have about 300 on my phone and I can share for hours.  I love my boy.  Really love my boy.  He did his circle thing and plopped down in the corner of my heart and that is where he will stay 'till death do us part.  And like all good romance stories it wasn't expected or, unfortunately for him..or maybe not really, even wanted.  So here is the story of 'Flex'.


'Flex' is a puppy mill puppy.  Who knows what his lineage is (though the pet store called him a Beagle/Boxer mix).  The only thing he was bred to do was look cute in a pet shop window so someone would buy him.  And lucky for him, someone did.  Out of the sometimes 25 'doggies in the window', he was deemed the sweetest and someone bought him, a cage, and a collar, gave him a name, and home he went.  He lived in a house with 2 adults, 1 teenager, and an 11 year old American Bull Dog female.  I am sure he received all kinds of love and attention.  He was too sociable to not have.  But one bad break up later, and 'Flex' found himself in that cage for most of the day.  He was left behind when she moved out and the guy tried to do the right thing and feed him, let him out to go to the bathroom and play with him some, and most importantly tried to give him a home until she could be located and asked if she wanted 'Flex' to come to her.   He honestly tried to do the ‘right’ thing.  Between teenage son, job, and older less puppy tolerant American Bulldog ‘Flex’ was being neglected.  It was time to find him a better home.  This is where I came in. Or more correctly my aunt.  Thanks to teenage sons in common, she met this puppy and vowed to find him a new home.  After weeks of trying, with no success he was heading to the shelter.  I was the last ditch effort to keep him from that fate, and I really didn't want another foster dog yet.  Shelters do a wonderful job finding homes or rescue groups for all the animals brought to their care.  I have known many animals from shelters and they are as loving and sweet as any animal from a breeder.  But it’s traumatic for the animal.  And if I could save ‘Flex’ from that, I felt I should.   This was to be a TEMPORARY solution.  Like any good foster mom, I was going to take him in, take him to the vet, and assess his personality…and then find him a nice home filled with people who would love him. 

The first thing I noticed about my new little friend was that he was very pink.  He was also extremely anxious so I figured that explained most of it.  He was skinny.  He was being fed ‘whatever the other dog ate’ and that also meant at and when the other dog was fed.  I am not sure he was getting enough food.  And the saddest thing I noticed, he has no idea who ‘Flex’ was.  Poor little guy had spent so much time alone in his cage, he didn’t even know his own name.  I knew we had a long road ahead of us to make things right for my new friend.

His first vet visit was actually via his surrogate aunt.  My sister brought him in to the first appointment we could get.  He was terrified but was a trooper for her.  What we learned has lead us to where we are today.  He might have Boxer in him somewhere (he does, if you spend time with him it really comes out), but he is most certainly a terrier mix mostly.  His muscle tone was very poor from being caged and fed an adult food most of his puppy life.  He was under weight by about 6 lbs which is a lot for a 30 lbs dog.   But her theory as to why came as a bit of a surprise: he is intolerant to gluten.  The food he was eating was actually making him sick.  And it had been for the whole year and a half he had been alive.  Super foster mom mode kicked in and after the initial prescription dog food to give his system a rest, we delved into the world of being grain free.  It took another 2 months to discover he was also allergic to corn.  The total number of foods he could eat dwindled quickly.  This road has been arduous at times.  He is a very picky eater.  Just because the label said he could eat it, doesn’t mean he would.  He’s not a fan of chicken, though he will eat it.  He hates fish.  Not crazy for venison or lamb.  It’s been a journey to arrive at healthy food he will eat.  I started this blog as an outlet and in hopes it might help someone else.  I was utterly overwhelmed by the information I found when I started, and not all of it was good.  I am not one for picketing Iams or Purina because they use inferior grade products in their foods.  I have known many dogs that lived long and healthy lives on their big brand food.  I am not a whole foods person who won’t eat anything processed and by extension and therefore my dog must have a raw diet as well.  I am a pretty run of the mill 9-5 kind of person who simply has to look at dog products in a different light because he can’t have most ‘normal’ dog things.  And I struggled to find people who understood that.  Not that there is anything wrong with ‘crunchy’ people as my crunchy friends would say.  They are great people.  They have wonderfully healthy pets.  But so do people who just want a healthy happy pet and can get that with a big brand food.  They wouldn’t exist if they didn’t work.  Unfortunately they didn’t work for my dog.  And yes, I say MY dog.  My foster lasted about 2 months before I was so smitten there was no way my new found friend was going to find a better home, he already had one.  And he has a new name, one that he ‘chose’ himself: Patrick.  He’s a wonderful, healthy, active, loving companion.  And this is our journey.